


Delta

by Emphysematous



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Merlin is playing matchmaker, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, getting drunk and acting ridiculously, losing-virginity stories, much discussion of sexuality, pretty much invented my own version of the ABO universe, so many made-up words, so much exposition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:12:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emphysematous/pseuds/Emphysematous
Summary: It's only been thirty years since alphas and omegas were finally granted legal equality with betas. The world is changing and the As and Os are coming out of hiding, moving out of the ghettos and demanding to be able to live without fear of violence or forced segregation. Eggsy is an out-and-proud alpha deeply involved in the pride movement. Harry has been chemically posing as a beta all his life. This is not a good way for romance to blossom. Somehow, they'll manage it.My first dabble in the omegaverse. I think I've twisted it horribly out of shape. Will get very explicit in a chapter or two.





	1. Alphas and Omegas: an evolutionary safeguard?

**Author's Note:**

> My writing fairy got held hostage by this ABO plot bunny and I couldn't write anything else until I got this out. 
> 
> I've really twisted the usual ABO dynamics, bear with me, it'll hopefully all make sense. 
> 
> First chapter is horribly full of exposition, sorry about that. 
> 
> The articles at the tops of chapters are from the magazine "Dynamix" which publishes information, history, research and ephemera about alpha, beta and omega issues.

 

_ Alphas and Omegas - an evolutionary safeguard? _

  _One of the obvious first questions when considering the existence of alphas and omegas is: what’s the evolutionary benefit? How have these people who have been so reviled throughout history managed to survive when the majority of the population tend to reject them? Though there are difficulties involved with discerning the accurate proportion of these people in the population - self-reporting studies tend to yield wildly differing statistics depending on how the data is collected - it is generally considered that approximately 5% of men and 2% of women will be ‘grammasexual’ (from the greek word ‘gramma’, meaning ‘letter’ - a reference to the greek letters alpha and omega used to describe the dual dynamics); with a roughly even split between alpha and omega in either sex. But what is the point of this small proportion of markedly different people?_

  _There are still no clear-cut answers, but evolutionary biologists are increasingly lending their support to the ‘last ditch effort’ theory, pointing to statistical evidence that geriatric primigravidae and first-time fathers are more likely to have grammasexual offspring. Which is to say: parents who have their first baby later in life have a higher chance of having an alpha or omega child._

  _This is thought to benefit the species as the socially-adept, supra-fertile omega is more likely to produce offspring than a beta person, and the more powerful, supra-protective alpha is more likely to find a mate and ensure the survival of the family through times of difficulty. As omegas of either sex can be impregnated by alphas and male betas, and alphas of either sex can impregnate omegas and female betas, the need for male-female pairings is reduced or eliminated, and this can help to ensure the continuation of the species through times of low population and limited mate-selection opportunities._

  _For example, in a long-term drought or starvation situation, individuals are less likely to have children as they struggle to survive, increasing the age of having their first baby and thus increasing the chance of having grammasexual children, who - when they reach maturity - can find mates of either sex to reproduce with. With their robust constitutions, alphas are stronger and more adept at coping in adverse situations, while omegas use their strong social skills to encourage communities to support each other and keep together. Omegas tend to have more hearty children than female betas, while alphas tend to be more devoted to their mates and offspring than male betas. All of which adds together to provide a very effective last-resort mechanism of ensuring species survival through times of environmental disaster that could wipe out a purely beta population._

  _Unfortunately for modern-day alphas and omegas, while the whole human species may very well owe its entire success and survival to the strong constitutions of these remarkable people during hard times, in times of plenty their differences are no longer considered to be desirable continuance traits, but reasons to reject and persecute them. In more recent years, great strides in gramma-pride and acceptance have been made, with almost all first-world countries now legally ensuring equal rights for grammas. There is still a long way to go to overcome the myriad myths, fears, and misunderstandings about alphas and omegas, but campaigners are hopeful that improved education and increased mixing with beta (‘allosexual’) society will continue to bring down social barriers and reduce stigma._

 

* * *

  
Eggsy had never been ashamed of who he was. A sink-estate delinquent, witness to and survivor of domestic abuse, devoted big brother, out-and-proud alpha, a bit sticky-fingered, excellent taste in trainers - he’d cheerfully admit to them all. But he knew when to keep his cards close to his chest and the Kingsman trials had certainly not been the place to make headway for the gramma-pride cause; not with all those poncey toffs scrutinising his every move, just waiting for him to fuck up so they could hold him up as an example of why his ‘type of people’ weren’t suitable, and then kick him back to where he came from. 

 Harry had been sympathetic but firm. “You have enough odds stacked against you, without adding that into the mix as well,” he’d explained, as Eggsy had been perched shirtless on the couch in a posh private doctor’s office, having his NHS stabiliser implant removed in favour of a far more advanced - and expensive - version of the drug. “I’m not saying you have to lie if you’re asked outright, I’m just strongly advising that you don’t advertise.” A pointed glance at his “α” earring and an eyeroll to his “m α t e” hat. “The less they know about you, the less ammunition they’ll have to throw at you.”

 “But I thought that all you posh fuckers were gramma all the way,” Eggsy had protested, wincing through the local anaesthetic as his implant was pulled out of his bicep with a shiny surgical steel tool that looked like its design hadn’t been altered since the 1500s. “Or gramma-philic, like. There’s stories about rich birds chasing after some alpha cock in the news all the time; or what about those Tory MPs getting caught with them underage omega lads - ow!” The doctor had inserted the new implant with an instrument that looked like an insane cross between the biggest fuck-off hypodermic needle Eggsy had ever seen and a Claire’s Accessories ear piercing gun. Either way, the mechanical _clunk_ as it had discharged had been viscerally disturbing. The doctor looked entirely unsympathetic as he placed a pathetically small dressing over the insertion site.

 “You’re right that the upper classes have a rich and complex history with grammasexuality, Eggsy,” Harry had held his hand out for one of the implant’s ID barcodes with drug, dosage, manufacturer and batch-number verification to be passed onto Kingsman, and the doctor had handed it over without even a glance at Eggsy for permission to share his personal medical information; Harry was clearly the one in charge out of the two of them. “Emphasis on ‘complex’. Most will certainly _bristle_ \- to say the least - at being reminded of any connections, particularly scandalous ones. A policy of strategic silence will probably be in your best interests.” He’d stood up and buttoned his jacket. “Come along now.” And that had been that. 

 And Eggsy had done as he’d been told, and had excelled - or at least not got booted out - right up until the final test, because what fucking psychopath orders someone to shoot their dog? Eggsy had been convinced that the correct answer to the test had been to refuse the clearly insane order, and was still firmly convinced of his moral victory even now, because… what fucking _psychopath_ orders someone to shoot their fucking _dog_? All that had been before Poppy, though. Before V-day, even. Now the world was a very different place, and Kingsman was a very different organisation. 

 The first changes had begun after Chester King had been… ‘removed’ from the position as Arthur. Apparently his character flaws extended far further than simply being a traitorous, genocidal arsehole. He and his mentors and predecessors, the two previous Arthurs, were entirely responsible for the all-rich, all-white, all-male, all-beta profile of the Kingsman that Eggsy had been introduced into. As agents had been lost to missions or retirement, their replacements had all followed a certain… pattern.

 At first it had seemed coincidental; simply hiring the best person for the job, regardless of any other factors. But after a while, the bias became more noticeable, and the Arthurs became more blatant. King’s predecessors had failed to recruit new agents to the Morien, Morgan, Elaine, Isolde and Guinevere code names, citing reduced need for so many agents in the field, but King himself had ordered their portraits - along with those of former agents of colour - removed from display and their files locked. When Poppy’s missiles had struck, the portraits, and any paper files not yet digitised, were destroyed. 

 It hadn’t been quite the horrendous disaster that Merlin and Eggsy had imagined when they’d met in the rain on the rubble of the tailor’s shop that night. Yes, the vast majority of their infrastructure was gone, and there had been a great many losses - the latest Arthur, Percival, Lamorak, Geraint - not to mention nearly fifty support staff working the nightshift at the mansion.  Thankfully Poppy hadn’t considered the ‘little people’ who actually made the agency work to be important enough to kill - which was fortuitously short-sighted of her. Bors had made it to his saferoom, Roxy too, and Caradoc, Bedivere, Gawaine, and Kay had been out in the field. It wasn’t as if every single agent was actually at home on the night Poppy attacked, was it? They did have jobs to do. The main problem had been re-establishing communications. With the HQ mainframe gone, the agents’ own personal servers destroyed and everyone too paranoid to trust that the person on the phone saying “no, you dribbling wankstain, it really is me, it’s Bors. Oh, you fucking imbecile, put me through to Merlin this instant!” really was who he claimed to be, it had taken several days for reliable contact to be made, by which time, Merlin and Eggsy had already left for their jaunt to Kentucky. 

 By the time they’d returned - with Merlin’s prosthetic leg and mostly-recovered-Harry in tow - Bors and Roxy had already sorted out most of the main clean-up and rebuild work. With little fuss, the remaining agents and techs promoted Bors to the new Arthur - he’d been teetering on the cusp of retirement from the field anyway and he’d got a taste for bossing people about during the crisis. Oberon - Merlin’s second-in-command had been palpably relieved to have Merlin back at the helm to create order out of the patchwork chaos of computer systems they’d cobbled together. And so, with the practically free-flowing cash from Statesman, Kingsman had rebuilt to be stronger, smarter - and more diverse than before. 

 Nonetheless, Eggsy had still felt a flutter of trepidation the first day he’d walked into the new HQ wearing his tastefully discreet Alpha lapel pin and his gramma-pride cufflinks, despite reassurances from Roxy who was sporting her own ‘ally’ brooch. “They won’t give a shit, Eggsy. You’ve more than proved yourself as a capable agent and that’s all that matters.” She’d held the door for him and virtually pushed him through it. “I virtually guarantee that no one will bat an eyelid.”

 She’d been annoyingly right. On the first day, despite the emblems being small, Eggsy was aware of the quick flicker of eyes to register the change in his appearance - this was a secret spy agency, everyone in the building was extensively trained to notice the little details - but on the whole, there was very little response.  Perhaps a slightly frostier nod of greeting from Bedivere in the mornings, possibly the faintest ‘I knew it’ twitch of the lips from Kay - but overall Eggsy’s huge coming-out at work was very anticlimactic. At least amongst his fellow agents and the techs and handlers he regularly worked with. 

 There were still some vestigial bigots hiding in the corners. Once when Eggsy and Roxy had entered the large gym to complete a routine fitness check, a physio made an ill-judged “careful, backs to the walls!” joke, which backfired spectacularly on him when Roxy, with well-acted innocent sweetness, confronted him and asked him to explain his comment. “Well, uh… an alpha in the room… gotta be careful he doesn’t, y’know… like… take advantage… yeah?” had been the stammering reply, received by the others in the gym with frosty silence and a mild air of disgust. Another time, a handler didn’t realise she was broadcasting to the whole operation when she asked Oberon if it was safe for Eggsy to be guarding the hostages during a civilian extraction. In the midst of dealing with the mission, Oberon had ‘forgotten’ to mute his terse response to her about keeping her mind on her work and out of the fucking gutter and that most people had a thing called ‘self control’ which she was clearly lacking. 

 Others followed suit. Three of the thirty candidates for the three latest agent openings formally registered their dynamic on Kingsman’s databases as omega, with a fourth coming out as alpha. The two candidates who went to Arthur to demand separate sleeping arrangements were swiftly told to use their own beds at home and were dismissed. Several of the medic support team opened up about their dynamics, some as everyone expected, others to some surprise. A smattering of other support staff quietly edited their Kingsman data entries. And through it all, Eggsy - who had actually grown up in a gramma-predominant estate and had no time for any bigoted bullshit now he was a fucking secret agent and fully equipped to fight back - became the unofficial champion of gramma rights at Kingsman, his top desk drawer stacked with myth-busting pamphlets and postcards with links to educational websites. 

 Mostly though - as ever - the work kept them too busy for petty personal issues. Still licking its wounds from V-day, the world had not coped well with the forced mass-reveal of drug users from every level of society. Politicians, doctors, generals, CEOs everywhere had their habits irrefutably exposed and many were toppled from their positions - or quietly stepped down - leaving many of the biggest global institutions unstable from the top down; weaknesses that opportunistic people were only too happy to exploit. In the months following Poppy’s ultimatum, Kingsman were kept very busy just trying to keep the fabric of the UK together, keeping the trains running, the hospitals open and the supermarkets stocked through any means possible, from quiet diplomacy at an evening party to all-out flash attacks on terrorist cells. It took nearly a year for the shockwaves to die down and some semblance of normality to return. 

 Of course, ‘normal’ was not a word that featured largely at Kingsman.

* * *

 

Harry sat with a mask strapped to his face, attached to over twenty different sensors and probes. He was dressed in his sweat-soaked Kingsman training kit and on a medical couch in the physiology gym, with Merlin frowning at his ECG trace while he panted through his recovery from the ten-minute treadmill sprint he had just been put through. Merlin virtually ignored him, concentrating only on his readouts; not that having his attention would have done Harry much good, as he couldn’t speak through the facemask that was collecting and analysing the gases in every breath he exhaled. 

 Eventually, the recovery period was over and Merlin ran the auto-analysis software while Harry started stripping off the mask and electrodes and wires while. The process took him some time and when he was free, Merlin immediately stuck a cannula needle in his arm for yet another blood sample, taking three vials and loading them into various machines. Their prolonged clunking, whirring and shuddering underlined the silence in the room. Results started to appear on receipt-like printouts. Merlin gathered them, attached them to his clipboard and frowned some more. 

 At last, he sighed and - horrifyingly - pulled over a wheeled chair to sit and have a chat with Harry face-to-face. Nothing ever good followed Merlin _sitting down_ to discuss test results. Harry’s fingers twitched: the only hint of his overwhelming desire to bolt out the door. He kept his breathing steady. Calm. Collected. In control. 

 “So.” Merlin cleared his throat. “Your fitness is good, VO2-max could be better, but your O2 sats are fine. Airways clear, good gas transfer. Your DEXA is normal to good, muscle mass excellent as always, the derma and gastro is fine but neuro, obviously needs ongoing monitoring.” He paused and glanced up for a response, so Harry nodded acknowledgement, waiting for the hammer to fall. “Right. So. Heart. Your blood pressure is still higher than I want it and I’ve been watching a notch in your P-wave for a while now--”

 “Oh have you?” Harry murmured, with a hint of a smirk which Merlin entirely ignored.

 “--and there has been some progression, particularly when you’re under exertion, which is probably what’s bringing your VO2-max down. The echo you had last month showed some sluggishness in one of the leaves of your mitral valve, with about a five to ten percent regurgitation, so we’re gonna keep an eye on that. For the time being I want you on ACE inhibitors.”

 “Oh come on, really?” Harry protested, “I am not taking ramipril. Are you serious?”

 Merlin’s lip twitched. “I was going to recommend perindopril, actually. Tends to have fewer side effects for people of your physiology.”

 “It’s a bloody old man’s drug, either way,” Harry argued petulantly. 

 Merlin rested his clipboard on his knees. “Harry. You are fifty two. You have led a very active life and put your body under a lot of intense stress.” He held his hand up to quell Harry’s interruption. “And if you want to continue to put your body under intense stress, Agent Galahad, you will take the bloody tablets. Understood?”

 Glowering, Harry nodded curtly, not deigning to respond with words. 

 “Okay then.” Merlin referred back to his clipboard and sighed. “Endocrine. I think you know what’s coming next. Would you like me to do the speech or can you recite it from memory by now?”

 Harry stared at the ceiling and woodenly reeled off, “Harry, you’ve been on outdated suppressant medication for far too long and the year on year cumulative effects will have increasingly irreversible impact on your future fertility, sexual function, liver and kidneys. Please reconsider the pros and cons of this treatment with a view to your long-term health.” He looked Merlin in the eye. “How did I do?” he challenged.

 Merlin was unperturbed by his insolence. “Pretty well. If you’d been doing last year’s speech. _This_ year’s speech goes a bit more like: Harry, your sodium and chlorine are low, your calcium's relatively normal but your PTH is still high and slowly climbing and I have no reason to think you’re deficient in vitamin D. Your urea, and creatinine are up but your albumin is low which has increased your ACR and your ALP. Which means estimated GFR is down. And has been for some time.” Again, he set his clipboard down. “This is it, Harry. It’s happening. You can’t put it off any longer.”

 There was a long stony silence. 

 Merlin tried his best to be sympathetic. “Look, Harry, times have changed…”

 “Oh stop it!” Harry snapped. “Don’t you _dare_ give me the ‘grammas are equal now’ nonsense. Changing a handful of laws doesn’t change _people_. You can’t wipe out quite literally thousands of years of systematic hatred and segregation in a generation. And no matter how forward-thinking people are, it will still change things. It will change _every_ interaction I have with _every_ person I meet. Forever.” He shook his head. “I can’t do it. “

 “Young Eggsy managed it,” Merlin retorted. “And he doesn’t have half the strength of will and stubbornness of you. He’s out there making fucking speeches about misconceptions and injustice and giving anyone who fucks with him a swift kick in the head. Annie and Sharik have done it. Pavel has done it. You can do it, you just don’t want to. Well, it’s time to man up, sweetness, and face the fucking pheromones. I am ending your prescription for your pressin. No discussion.”

 Harry lost his temper. “Eggsy grew up in a fucking gramma-ghetto a decade after the equality laws passed! Being alpha in a gramma-rights world is all he’s ever known! Being _out_ and living openly amongst others like him is all he’s ever known! I grew up in the bloody Cotswolds though the seventies!  There is nothing similar about Eggsy and me and if you can’t see that then you’re not the friend I thought you were.” Harry finished his tirade with a blink and slowly sat down as if surprised to realise he’d been standing. 

 He took a steadying breath and spoke more quietly. “My father put me on suppressants when I was twelve and swore I’d never see any of my family again if anyone found out. He took me on one of those tours through Alphega to gawk and laugh at the heat-crazed perverts fucking in the dirt and promised me I’d be one of them if there was even a hint of not being allo. My whole life, I’ve been chemically numbed, apart from crises when I couldn’t get to my tablets. And those crises were _terrible_ for me. All those smells, all those feelings. It changes the way you think and behave and feel. Like you’re suddenly driving someone else’s brain. It’s overwhelming, horrendous.” He squeezed his eyes shut and looked down. 

 Merlin clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Harry. I’m not asking you to go cold turkey. I’m not gonna strip you of your meds and leave you with nothing. All I want is to get you off that fucking ancient pressin you’ve been taking for the last twenty years. I have a stablin implant right here for you. No pills, just a constant dose of stabiliser to keep you centred. You shouldn’t have any cognitive change at all and only minor behavioural which I’m sure you have enough self-control to master. The new drugs are good stuff, Harry. Please.”

 “No cognitive change.” Harry chewed on his lip. “But sensory? And…” he groped for the word, “...aromatically?” He grimaced. 

 Merlin spread his hands. “Well, yes. Your senses will be heightened. Or rather, they’ll stop being numbed. And yes, your scent will stop being suppressed too. Although, again, the new stabilisers keep the peaks very much under control, so it should largely be minimally noticeable.”

 “ _Minimally noticeable,_ ”Harry repeated dourly, “in bloody Kingsman? Every single member of staff will have the memo within an hour of me setting foot through the door.”

 “Well then,” Merlin stood up and pushed Harry’s shirt sleeve up in preparation for inserting the implant, “that’ll save time telling people, won’t it?” Harry glared at him with resigned tolerance, letting Merlin disinfect a patch of his bicep with alcohol. “And then maybe, once you’ve actually got some of your balls back, you’ll finally get round to asking Eggsy out, eh?”

 Harry’s response was interrupted by the metallic _clunk_ of the implanting device. 

 


	2. Grammasexuality: the nature of the beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds himself outwitted, and Eggsy does a favour for a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that the rating got upgraded. 
> 
> Huge thanks to hartwinorlose on Tumblr for letting me babble all my crazy ideas at her. 
> 
> Love to LelithSugar and Rileyout for their patience with my endless frantic "quick! What colour are Harry's socks???" ridiculous questions.

_ **Grammasexuality: the nature of the beast** _

_ Historically, the grammasexual has been feared and reviled for both the alpha-type “they’ll overpower and rape” and the omega-type “they’ll seduce and manipulate” stereotypes. And often, through some quirk of society’s cognitive dissonance, both ideas are somehow held about all grammasexuals simultaneously, regardless of dynamic. The unease, distrust and sometimes outright violence from allosexual society over the centuries caused grammasexuals to gather together in supportive, protective and self-isolating communities and unfortunately, this natural withdrawal tended to only increase beta misunderstanding.  _

_ Hedgerows and lines of of vitex, grammicept, rue, wolfsbane, rowan and rye are still found today forming the remnants of protective borders between allosexual and grammasexual territories from a time when these plants were used to dampen the ‘animalistic’ desires of the alpha and omega. In fact, it is thought that the origins of the ‘werewolf’ myths lie in the cyclical nature of omega heats and alpha responses to them. It is certainly remarkably coincidental that many of the alleged anti-werewolf herbs and wards tend to have some effect on grammasexual physiology. Many of these formed the original basis of the first chemical suppressants and even some of the modern-day stabiliser drugs that have revolutionised gramma and allo relationships over the last half century.  _

_ The stereotype of the large, powerful, dangerous and sexually aggressive alpha has some roots in reality. Twin studies have shown that alphas are often slightly taller and more muscled than their beta peers. Additionally, due to their more prominent genitalia, the idea that alphas make more satisfying sexual partners for beta females has made them a target of insecurity and jealousy from beta males. When an alpha’s bond-mate or offspring is threatened, the alpha’s instinct is to spring to their defence. In times before reliable stabilisers or suppressants, when grammas were often outright attacked simply for being in allo territory, it is hardly surprising that violent clashes ensued.  _

_ However, the often-forgotten side of the alpha nature is a deep need to care for and nurture their mate - or anyone in need, if unbonded. Many alphas gravitate towards caring vocations such as medicine, nursing and therapy services - a fact which often surprises allos, who assume that a physically stronger individual would tend towards more physically demanding or dominant jobs such as military or police work. The reality is quite the opposite: generally alphas are too quick to jump in, too easily riled to be successful in these fields. Although their brute force has been romanticised by Hollywood war movies, a hot-head is the last thing anyone needs in a war-zone. _

_ Similarly, the stereotype of the weak, meek, promiscuous omega may have some elements from reality in that omegas tend to be more slightly built, less forceful and can be driven to extreme measures whilst in the throes of an unstable heat, which can be very physically and emotionally uncomfortable. The trope of the home-wrecker omega seducing the unwilling beta husband may have some unfortunate basis in truth as desperate heat-struck omegas sought any type of relief from their condition. Unfortunately, historically the omega has suffered the brunt of the blame for any such indiscretions, while the adulterous husband is sympathised with for falling foul of deceptive omega wiles. The omega tends to have strong social skills, and to be adept at negotiation and compromise - which has been often interpreted by society as being manipulative.  _

_ Again, there is a forgotten side of the omega personality: their fierce protection of their families and homes, and their often ruthless determination to provide well for them. Omegas may prefer to discuss and debate and to find a middle path whenever possible - but when all other paths to conflict resolution have been exhausted, omegas will fight furiously with all available resources to defend themselves and their families. While allos expect omegas to be homemakers, teachers and secretaries, in reality they are often drawn to high-powered jobs such as politics, upper management and banking, which best position them to give their families as comfortable a life as possible, or protective roles such as security or bodyguarding.  _

_ The inaccuracy of allosexual expectations in the modern world of hormone stabilisers and suppressants demonstrates that much of what is ‘known’ about grammas from the allo point of view is clearly unfounded. It is hoped that as the groups mix more, there will be more understanding and acceptance on both sides. _

 

* * *

Of course, the first thing Harry did once Merlin finally let him out of the lab was to go straight to his office to dig out his stash of pressin. Only to find, when he opened his top drawer, that the packet was empty. Which was odd, he’d been sure there was at least half a strip left. He checked the other drawers in case he’d misplaced the strip, but no luck. 

Not to worry. Harry went to his safe, kept behind a Conroy Maddox painting and openable only with his fingerprints and eight-digit code. Inside was his usual assortment of weapons he’d ‘lost’ in the field, a modest stockpile of various Kingsman pharmaceuticals that he’d thought might come in useful someday, a small box of assorted small keepsakes, his legal documents and personal letters to be sent in the event of his death in the field, his stuffed badger from childhood, Mr Hennessy - his cognac-coloured fur rather dirty and sparse in places now - and... a distinct lack of pressin. 

Growing suspicious, Harry swiftly went through his briefcase and his grab-bag for short-notice missions. Both were fully stocked with all the usual accoutrements - except for his meds. 

“Merlin, you fucking  _ bastard _ …” Harry muttered as he headed down to the lower levels to check his combat locker and a few other hiding places. No luck. As Harry moodily sat in the tube shuttle on his way back to the tailor’s shop, he fired off a quick message to Merlin:  _ I actually, genuinely hate you sometimes. _

Merlin’s response was unrepentant:  _ Wasn’t born yesterday, Harry. _

Harry plotted a variety of elaborate and painful deaths for him all the way home.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy stepped out of the fitting room with his briefcase and umbrella shoved awkwardly under one arm so that he could refasten an errant cufflink. Composing himself more properly, he nodded a polite ‘good evening’ to the tailor manning the shop and briskly let himself out into the cool evening air outside. Almost immediately on leaving the perimeter of the building and its numerous anti-hacking safeguards, his phone beeped a message alert at him. His own, personal phone, not his Kingsman communicator. He unlocked it while getting into his taxi. Six text messages from Micah, the guy who came round to let JB2 out once a day while Eggsy was at work. 

10.08 -  _ Hey, Jess said you might have some icers? _

10.17 -  _ If poss, could you drop them round soon as you can? Will repay you in favours & booze _

11.01 -  _ If you haven’t got any - do you know anyone who does? _

11.34 -  _ It’s all good, Mark’s sorting it _

15.44 -  _ Mark couldn’t sort it. Are you still at work? When do you finish? _

16.58 -  _ Eggs… I hate to ask, but… fuck. Call me. Please? _

Eggsy ran his hand worriedly through his hair as he tapped his phone to call Micah back. It was picked up almost immediately. “Eggsy, fuck!” A low groan that a poor phone signal turned into a robotic creak, then a deep breath. “Eggsy, are you out of work?”

“I’m out. You still need me?” Eggsy was tapping out a message to his driver which he sent to the taxi’s heads-up display. 

Another groan, more stifled this time. “Uh… if you’re free?”

“Yeah, yeah, mate. No worries. I’m gonna get some stuff for you and nip to pick up JB2 and I’ll be right round, yeah?” Eggsy gripped the grab-bar as the taxi swerved sharply round a corner. “You got anyone with you?”

“Jess is downstairs. She just got in like, ten minutes ago. I’ll ask her to watch the dog, yeah?” A quavering note of hopefulness came in on top of the pain and distress of Micah’s voice. 

“Yeah, good plan. You’re doing great. I’ll be quick as I can.” Eggsy hung up just as the cab pulled up outside a pharmacy geared to gramma needs. He was in and out again in less than five minutes, a large bulky white bag in his hand. Emergency heat packs weren’t cheap, especially complete ones like this, which included bedding protectors, towels and food, but at least he’d be sure he’d have everything on hand. Micah’s planning skills were… lacking... as evidenced by his situation today. He was a typical rich kid, grew up far too pampered and now had no idea how to take care of himself - and no real need to learn either, as mummy would always cough up the cash to rescue him if he ever got into  _ real _ difficulties. 

After a second brief stop off at his own house to fetch a grab-bag of overnight stuff and a very exuberant and snuffly JB2, Eggsy’s taxi pulled up outside the narrow terraced townhouse and he hurried to the door where Jess was already waiting to let him in. An almost visible cloud of scent wafted in the air of the hallway. Eggsy swallowed, controlling himself. “How is he?” he asked, handing JB2’s lead to Jess and shouldering his two bags. 

“Eh, the usual.” Jess folded her arms, unsympathetic. “I did remind him, several times, to take his fucking--”

“Yeah, well, he’s a prat, ain’t he?” Eggsy interrupted, not wanting to get into the middle of a housemates’ dispute. Jess was omega as well, but far more organised when it came to her hormone stabilisers. This was the third time Eggsy had come round to help out scatterbrained Micah and she was clearly unimpressed with his lackadaisical approach to his own self-care. “Is  Sarah in tonight?” The third of the housemates was a beta and she’d been out both times Eggsy had been here before. 

“She’ll be back about eight. I’ve warned her. We’ll stay up and watch films. Loudly.” Jess huffed a sigh and picked up the ecstatically wiggly JB2. “He’s lucky it’s bloody friday because if he does this shit on a school night one more time we’re gonna have to evict him or something.”

“Oh come on, Jess! He can’t help it. He’s a bit shit at taking tablets on time. It’s only happened a few times.”

“It happens almost  _ every bloody time,  _ Eggsy.” Jess growled at him, letting JB2 mouthe at her thumb snuffling contentedly. “ _ You’ve _ only been roped in a few times, but he has others on call too.” She glared at the ceiling. “It’s people like him that make it hard for the rest of us. Why can’t he just--

“Yeah, Jess, alright,” Eggsy interrupted again, starting to head for the stairs. “I’ll talk to him. But like, there’s a time and a place, y’know? I mean, he’s not exactly going to be listening to reason right now, is he?” He backed away up the stairs to the half-landing, then gave her an awkward, embarrassed wave and carried on round the corner.

“Tell him to get himself a bloody implant!” Jess shouted at his back as he climbed the last few steps. From below, he heard the slam of the living room door; from ahead there was the compelling scent of an omega in heat. Wiping his clammy hands on his trousers, Eggsy tapped politely at Micah’s door. 

“Just get the fuck in here, already,” was the rather petulant reply. Eggsy bit back a sharp retort about gratitude, reminding himself that Micah was in distress, gathered his bags and went in. 

The room was stiflingly hot and thick with omega scents: musk, sex, fresh sweat and a savoury sweetness that always reminded Eggsy of maple syrup on bacon or some other kind of strong salt/sugar combination. There were less pleasant tones too: stale linen, unwashed clothes, uneaten food and dirty plates. Micah was curled up in his bed, wrapped in a mountain of duvets and blankets, clutching a large spherical plushie. “Where have you been?” he whined, peering out at Eggsy through a gap in his nest, “I’ve been waiting  _ forever!” _

“You’ve been waiting all of…” Eggsy checked his watch, “thirty seven minutes.” He dumped his bags at the foot of the bed, and took off his jacket. Micah sat up within his cocoon of blankets, licking his lips expectantly. Eggsy shook his head. “Not yet. First things first: shower and food.”

Micah shook his head emphatically. “Noooo, please!” he flopped back down and whimpered like a petulant child. “I’m ready, I just need you to--”

“And I will.  _ After _ you’ve showered and eaten.” Eggsy cut in smoothly. He went through to the ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower, increasing the heat a little to better soothe heat cramps. The bathroom began to fill with steam. Eggsy returned to the bedroom and yanked one of the blankets off the bed. Micah clutched at it with sweaty hands, but failed to get a purchase. 

“If I eat, I’ll be sick,” he grumbled while Eggsy pulled at the next layer of bedding, slowly excavating him, strata by strata.  

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, babe,” he grinned, hauling the biggest duvet away from Micah’s grasp. “Come on; upsy daisy. Let me look after you.” He finally worked his way into the nest and reached out a hand to help Micah up; he uncurled stiffly, relinquishing his hold on his stuffed Jigglypuff. “There’s a boy,” Eggsy crooned encouragingly, helping him to stand, “good boy; let’s get you in the shower, eh?” 

His motivations for getting Micah cleaned up weren’t entirely altruistic. Like most omegas in an unstable heat, Micah stank. He was at least two days into feverishly nesting and wanking - to the exclusion of virtually everything else, including eating or washing. And while it was true that Eggsy’s hindbrain found the built-up miasma of omega desperation to turn him on like nothing else, his higher brain functions knew that it was pretty disgusting.  _ This _ was the reality of omega heats that the movies and porn videos never bothered to show. The dirt and sweat and body fluids and  _ stink _ of it all. Pretty sure the profits from beta pervs would plummet if they showed the grim truth. 

Having successfully got Micah into the shower, Eggsy hastily opened the window for fresh air, stripped the bed and bundled everything unclean or smelling out into the hall. From his emergency heat pack he unwrapped a waterproof mattress protector, a large flat sheet and a couple of pillow cases to remake the bed. He set out massage oil, lube, condoms and body wipes on the bedside table and put the two cheap but serviceable towels in plain sight in the middle of the bed. 

With the room bearable, he headed out to the kitchen to reconstitute the pots of freeze-dried pasta with boiling water, gathering up the dirty crockery and kicking the laundry down the stairs as he went. In a neat pile across the bannister at the foot of the stairs, Jess had set out numerous fresh bed linens and towels. He grinned to himself, she made a song and dance about being so annoyed with Micah, but she was worried about him too. He dumped the dishes into the sink and shoved a load of laundry into the machine while the kettle boiled, then took the pasta pots and a couple of extra glasses for water back upstairs, along with the stack Jess had left for him. 

Micah was just coming out of the shower by the time he came back. He was glowing pink and clean-smelling and walking stiffly across to the bed, still naked and soaking wet. Eggsy hurried to set down his armful to help him wrap himself in towels and start to dry off. “Feeling better, yeah?” he asked, while rubbing vigorously at Micah’s floppy hair. Micah’s only response was to whimper at him and nuzzle into his neck, fingers moving to start unbuttoning Eggsy’s shirt. “No no,” Eggsy gently pushed the shaking hands away, “food first. And water.” 

He ignored the gagging grunt of disgust at his suggestion, and dug out a plastic fork, stirring the softened pasta into its creamy sauce, and wafted it temptingly in front of Micah’s nose. Despite his protestations, once the hot food was literally placed in front of him, Micah rapidly wolfed down both pots, his body demanding sustenance. Eggsy followed up the pasta with a pint of fresh water and some fruit in jelly that was laced with additional vitamins and trace minerals tailored for omega heat physiology. 

While Micah ate, Eggsy awkwardly stuffed duvets into new covers and pulled the window shut again now that the room had been aired out. He rifled through the remains of the heat pack, ignoring the sex toys but finding a small pheromone absorber, which he hung on the outside bedroom door handle in a belated attempt to minimise the scent escaping, and a couple of packets of over-the-counter heat reliever tablets, which were mostly only ibuprophen and mild muscle relaxants - the hormonal treatments needed a prescription - but every little helped. He popped a couple from their blister pack and handed them to Micah, who downed them almost without looking. 

Clean, fed, watered and clearly in safe hands, Micah’s anxiety was coming down. The sulphurous tinge of panic in his scent was diminishing in favour of more relaxed sweet earthy notes. Eggsy sat next to him on the bed and sniffed him openly, murmuring appreciative noises.  _ Look after the omega; feed him, care for him, tell him he’s pretty, make him feel good,  _ his hindbrain whispered to him at some instinctive level; and in that moment, with Micah smelling clean and desperate and made of pure sex, Eggsy was happy to go along with his baser instincts. He laid little kisses down Micah’s neck, nuzzling at his jawline. Micah pawed at him, pulling him closer, wiggling against him - then groaned loudly and  gripped tight to the shoulders of his shirt as his body tensed with another cramp. 

“Getting worse?” Eggsy asked, even though it was obvious, the pain written clearly on Micah’s face. A mute nod, knees drawing up to chest as he curled protectively around his stomach. Eggsy squeezed his bicep soothingly. “Alright, babe, I’m here. Lie down for me, eh?” He stood up and arranged Micah on his front, a pillow under his hips to add gentle pressure to his lower stomach, and his Jigglypuff plushie wrapped in his arms to give him something to hug. Unbidden, Micah spread his legs, bringing a knee up and displaying himself. 

Eggsy chuckled. “Hold your horses, mate; all in good time.” He ignored Micah’s frustrated moan and quickly stripped himself out of his suit. The bed dipped as he climbed on, swinging a leg easily over Micah’s arse and straddling his lower back. He settled into position and reached for the massage oil, pouring a generous amount into his hand and letting it drip between his fingers onto Micah’s back. His fingers were firm and steady as he kneaded into the tense flesh of Micah’s shoulders, muscles tight with a couple of days worth of cramping and pain and his glands swollen and hot. He worked methodically, starting at the base of the neck and working out and downwards down his arms and back, smoothing out knots of tension and relaxing away the cramps. 

This was another thing betas didn’t understand. They saw the massage, or whatever the omega needed to relax, as foreplay or as romance, when really it was mostly functional - a tense, cramped-up omega wouldn’t be relaxed enough to be able to come, and without that climax the heat would be unresolved and could go on much longer than it needed to, causing even more distress to the omega. And at the core of alpha instincts was the need to _comfort the omega,_ _please the omega, satisfy the omega_. It wasn’t necessarily a bonding thing, though the urge was more powerful and more focused on the mate when bonded, it was just a strong urge to look after and ease discomfort in whatever way was most efficient.

Micah let out a guttural groan of contentment as Eggsy slid a hand up his neck and around to hold loosely around his throat, gripping his jaw firmly but not restricting his airway. Eggsy squeezed for a moment, demonstrating his strength and control, then trailed his fingers back down Micah’s spine. He shuffled himself down Micah’s body to sit across his thighs and continued the massage down over his lower back where the cramps would be worst, then carried on down over his backside and legs. Though Micah wriggled and tried to get Eggsy’s fingers into him when his hands moved up to the tops of his thighs, Eggsy kept him waiting just a bit longer - even though the scent and sheen of Micah’s wet anticipation from between his buttocks was more than apparent. 

Finally, when the last toe had been attended to and Micah was a pliant, cooing puddle of expectant relaxation in the middle of the bed, humping absently into the pillow under his hips; finally, Eggsy crawled back up over his body and nibbled at the back of his neck. “You ready?” he breathed into Micah’s ear, sliding a hand down his back and into the cleft of his buttocks where his fingers met hot, slippery wetness. Micah groaned and arched his back, pushing himself onto Eggsy’s fingers in response. Eggsy grinned and bit him gently again - right in the centre, where he was far enough away from the scent glands at the curve of each shoulder to reassure Micah he had no dishonourable intentions, but close enough to the general area to get his hindbrain whirring. He slid his fingers in and out of Micah’s body, struggling to find any friction through the copious slick so adding a third and a fourth in quick succession. “Want it?” he asked, almost rhetorically - but it pressed buttons in him to see Micah nodding emphatically, squirming and rutting to get Eggsy to  _ fucking get on with it. _

He got the condom on with as little interruption as he could manage and used Micah’s own slick to lube himself up, then settled himself into position straddling Micah’s hips, with one hand holding him by the back of the neck and the other pressing down between his shoulderblades to keep him in place -  _ strong, dominant alpha in charge  _ \- and pushed himself into the hot heat of that willing, waiting, wet omega body. Micah’s drawn-out moan of blissful satisfaction made his heart skip a beat and a flush of tension coil in his belly. He thrust in again, harder, getting more of his cock inside as Micah’s body opened up for him, making Micah gasp out a babble of encouragement. 

Eggsy held Micah down until he was all the way inside the pliant omega body, then shifted his weight to lie on all fours over him so that he could hug him closely and nip at the nape of his neck with his teeth. Micah hissed in appreciation, rocking his hips back and pushing himself harder onto Eggsy’s cock until they settled into rhythm, Micah allowing Eggsy to set a pace he knew he could sustain for the duration. 

As he settled into the meat of the fuck, Eggsy was slightly ashamed to find his mind wandering. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying himself - his body was certainly having a great time - it was just that… well this was all very much a favour for a friend in need and while Micah was an alright bloke and fine to have a pint with and a really good dog-walker, he really wasn’t what Eggsy normally went for. Far too posh and lanky and yeah, cute in a rumpled-puppy kind of way, but just way too  _ aimless _ in life. If it hadn’t been for the pheromonal stimulus, there’d be no way this could happen. As it was, Micah’s chemical signals of ‘distressed omega’ spoke to the ‘alpha make it better’ parts of Eggsy’s brain without consulting any part of what his actual higher functions thought about it all. And here was another fundamental difference between grammas and allos: how this incredibly intimate act could be at the same time a bit of a boring chore. Yes, it felt physically good, but he had no real emotional connection with Micah; their scents just weren’t very compatible, not to mention their personalities. 

And so, while Micah squirmed and gasped and swore beneath him, Eggsy found himself idly pondering which takeaway to pick up when he got out of here, and whether he remembered to send his other watch down to the Kingsman techs for recalibration. His thoughts drifted to comparisons of Micah’s skinny frame and needy submission with the more muscular and cheeky omegas from the porn he tended to gravitate to. He had a weakness for omegas who knew what they wanted from their alphas and took it unashamedly without the anxiousness, fear and hesitation that were characteristic of an unbonded omega in heat. His favourite videos were usually long-bonded pairs who knew each other inside and out; the omega pushing the alpha onto his back and riding his cock the way he wanted it. 

Occasionally you could find something similar in a beta-omega pair, but those were usually exploitative “fuck the slut” videos, which turned Eggsy’s stomach and brought back memories he’d worked hard to push down. He kept an eye on the “beta fucks alpha”, “omega fucks beta” or even “omega fucks alpha” tags, because although those were usually hideously exaggerated ‘funny’ porn, just sometimes you found a jewel of a real relationship where two amateurs were totally into each other. And  _ fuck _ that was hot. Otherwise, he contented himself with the ubiquitous beta-beta porn. Sasha Grey. Fuck yes. He’d totally be up for a bit of that. To be honest, most of the generic beta lesbian stuff would work for him in a pinch. All those tits. Nice. And then inevitably, after he’d come, he’d blink a bit and realise that while he was certain he’d started wanking to “tammy and stacy get soapy in the shower”, somehow along the way he’d ended up getting off to “daddy-beta rides twink-alpha cock - and loves every inch!!”. And then he’d have to clear his browsing history and go and watch some trash TV to stop himself thinking about what that said about him. 

The tone of Micah’s moaning beneath him changed pitch and Eggsy guiltily snapped his mind back to the task in hand. Micah had worked an arm under his body and had the other across his mouth so he could bite into the meat above his wrist. His face was dripping sweat, his body twitching occasionally as Eggsy’s cock rutted into him. His slick had coated Eggsy’s thighs and balls and was forming a growing wet patch on the sheets. His body was gripping Eggsy harder, adding more friction and Eggsy could feel himself swelling, the base of his cock expanding to fill Micah up. He thrust in harder, hauling Micah’s body close with a bruising grip around his hips. It was getting harder to push himself in. Micah grunted out something unintelligible, but Eggsy knew how he liked it so he wrapped an arm across Micah’s throat and grabbed a handful of his curly brown hair with the other, wrenching his head back and fucking into him harder.

“Fuck!” was the only coherent word Eggsy caught out of the string of moans, whines and babbling Micah let out. He was stroking furiously at his cock and his hips were rocking, pumping back onto Eggsy. He raised one hand to feel along the curve of his own neck, his fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder. Eggsy slapped his hand away with a friendly “oi, none of that,” and adjusted his grip to clamp his hand over Micah’s mouth because his constant stream of nonsense was getting really fucking distracting. And apparently that was the right move because a few dozen thrusts later Micah tensed into a twitching, quivering mass beneath him, his body clamping hard around Eggsy’s cock, squeezing him with exquisite tightness and heat and pulling him into orgasm along with him. Eggsy pressed his forehead to the blade of Micah’s shoulder and panted expletives into his skin as he came. 

They fell into a sweaty, breathless pile on the damp sheets, Eggsy rolling them to spoon on their sides, groaning a little as Micah’s body pulsed rhythmically around his cock, squeezing him empty. Micah shifted and Eggsy grabbed him by the hips to steady him so that they’d keep together - being yanked at the knot was not a pleasant experience for either party. He let himself relax into the bed and wallow in the satisfaction of a nice shag and the cloud of happy omega pheromones. Micah was serene now, all his tension and distress ebbing away and leaving him boneless and sleepy. Eggsy stroked softly down his sides as his breathing slowed and became deeper and more even. It took about ten minutes for them to both unwind enough for Eggsy to slip free, making Micah mumble in his sleep at the sudden emptiness. Eggsy gently wriggled away and pulled the duvet around him, tucking him into his nest. 

He left Micah sleeping and helped himself to a quick rinse down in the shower, making use of the bathroom bin for the the condom and empty packets and wrappers. It was only polite to tidy up after himself. Ten minutes later, he was dressed again and downstairs with his bag, tapping at the living room door to collect JB2 from Jess and Sarah. 

“Sorted?” Jess asked, as Eggsy let the dog snuffle happily at his neck and nose at his breast pocket in the hopes of finding a treat. 

“Yeah, I left him sleeping. He’s got the rest of the heat pack with him for tomorrow - then he should fine. And yeah,” he continued hurriedly, before Jess started to lecture some more, “I’ll talk to him about his meds, alright? Though how much attention he’ll pay…”

Jess rolled her eyes. “He’s a moron. He’s gonna get into trouble sooner or later. This is the sixth heat in a row he’s had someone round.”

“Six in a row?” Eggsy blinked, trying to think how long ago it’d been since he’d last been here, and Jess snorted at his surprise. 

“And four in a row before that. I told you Eggsy, he’s headed for trouble.” She leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “I don’t know what to do. His family are allo and pretty grammaphobic, so of course the moment he was out of their house he moved to the first Estate he came across and started... Well, doing  _ that _ ,” she gestured up to Micah’s room. “And it doesn’t matter how much I try to tell him that this isn’t healthy behaviour, he just goes on about being himself, blah blah blah…” her lip curled in distaste. 

Eggsy nodded, a bit taken aback. He knew the story, even if he hadn’t realised that Micah was living it. He’d been a bit startled when Jess had mentioned that Micah had been calling on others for ‘help’ as well as him - not that that in itself was an issue, just that it meant that these little ‘slips’ of memory or organisation weren’t nearly as infrequent as he’d thought. It was one thing to be the friend that people turned to in a crisis; it was another to have your good nature systematically taken advantage of. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, feeling oddly uncomfortable. 

Jess softly cleared her throat and Eggsy blushed at his wandering attention. He thanked her and Sarah for looking after JB2 and she saw him out into the brisk early evening air. The door closed firmly behind him and for a few seconds, he just stood on the pavement, at a bit of a loss. Then JB2 whuffled at him, whinging slightly about the cold and he buried his face into that short, velvety fur, glad that at least  _ some _ relationships were pure and simple. Mind now made up, he signalled for a Kingsman taxi to come a pick him up, then dug his phone out of a pocket and called Roxy.

“You’re late,” she said, in lieu of ‘hello’. 

Eggsy grimaced. “Yeah, sorry. Got held up. You still up for tonight?”

“I’ll have thin-crust, chicken and mushroom with extra cheese, and some garlic dip.”

“Oh I’m buying, am I?” he chuckled, waving to attract the attention of the cab that had turned onto the top of the road.

“Absolutely. Consider it a timekeeping tax. See you in fifteen?

“Maybe ten, I’m closer than home and the traffic’s pretty good.” Eggsy climbed into the cab and told the driver where he was heading. 

“Okay, I’ll pour you a drink.”

“You’re the best, Rox.”

“Yeah, I am. See you soon.” She hung up and Eggsy spent a moment on his phone ordering pizza and chips to be delivered to her place through JustEat. He sat back and sighed out his tension, staring out the window. A weird day. Junk food, booze and movies with Roxy was exactly what he needed right now. She’d sort him out - Roxy was never complicated.

 

* * *

 

Harry brushed sweat-damp hair from his eyes and sank onto his sofa. Merlin - the comprehensively thorough  _ cunt _ that he was - had virtually cleaned him out. His bathroom cabinet, the everything-drawer in the kitchen, the bedside table, the box under the bed, the glovebox and side pockets of his car, his coat and jacket pockets, his Kingsman-installed safes and hiding places, even his fucking  _ personal _ safe at home, every suitcase and overnight bag which always had at least a couple absent-mindedly left behind - everything was in place, except for his ubiquitous suppressants. 

Having been on the same drug and dosage since he’d turned thirty, Harry’s house was full of discreet stockpiles. They were  _ everywhere _ . Not usually lying about for all to see, but tucked away in drawers and boxes and bags all over the place. Or they had been. Growing more angry and frantic, Harry had virtually torn his house apart, systematically going through every possible place he might have left some, no matter how unfeasible. It had not been surprising that there were no pressin pills in the freezer. 

He stared morosely at the few that had escaped the shakedown. A bottle he’d stashed behind a certain book, a pair wedged deep down the side of the armchair, a strip he’d once put behind a tile in the downstairs bathroom as a safeguard against forgetting to renew his prescription. He’d found half a strip that he kept in his wallet - not even Merlin could get the ones that were literally on his person - and another half-strip he’d found between the bed and the wall in the spare room that was two years out of date and seemed to be Italian. His memory was embarrassingly vague on who might have left those behind, but he added them to the pile anyway. These, along with the ones with tapering-down dosages that Merlin had issued him this afternoon, were all that he had.

He’d planned to keep going on the suppressants for another month or two. Maybe four - just long enough to get his mind used to the idea, and perhaps to go and have some conversations with certain people before his biology outed him once and for all. This little pile would last him… thirty eight days. It felt like a woefully short time. He sent another message to Merlin:  _ You absolute, incomprehensible, encyclopaedic,  _ _ bastard. _

Merlin replied: _ ah, so you’re home, then? How did we do? _

Harry sent him photo of the remnants of his hoard. No point in hiding it, under the circumstances. Merlin responded a moment later:  _ Considering how many we took  _ _ out _ _ of your house, I’d call that a success.  _ Harry was in the process of typing a reply, when Merlin added:  _ And no buying them from a bloke in the pub - you’ll be on regular blood screenings, Galahad. _

Harry sent him a picture of his middle finger and stomped off to bed.

 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: [This](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/11/c8/09/11c809ff20e204f087771f1ff67e5152.jpg) is the painting in Harry's office.
> 
> Okay, so plot actually starts happening in the next chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Any feedback - good or bad - is very very gratefully received. I'm still very nervous about this fic as it's so different from my usual thing.


	3. GrammaFacts Part One: Alpha - Zeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggs and Toast are sent on a mission! And start to get a bit closer to each other.

_GrammaFacts Part 1: Alpha - Zeta_

 

_Confused about grammas? Not sure where the facts end and the fiction begins? Our handy four-part guide is here to answer all your questions!_

 

α -  Heats

_ The average omega heat cycle is around ten weeks and takes around three days if a mate is available - though every individual is different - and occur from puberty to the fifties or sixties. There are also three stages which roughly correlate with the three days: heating, peak and cooling.  _

_ During heating, the omega’s body temperature will rise and their body will prepare for mating. At the peak, there is a very strong urge to have sex - in fact it is the physical act of sex, and the stretch of the alpha’s knot in particular, which triggers the release of hormones to start the cooling stage, where body temperature will come back down and there will be a tendency to want to be close to and tactile with people. The required stretch can be approximated with specially designed sex toys, though omegas report they are a poor substitute.  _ _   
_ _ If there’s no way to be penetrated, a heat will continue at midpoint with raised temperature and the increasing urge to have sex for a couple of days until it ‘snaps’ and cooling phase begins. The ‘snap’ is said to be physically painful and is preceded by sharp muscle cramps and spasms which can become very uncomfortable and cause some distress.  _

_ ‘Icers’ can be taken during heating stop the heat, but once the peak has started they’ll be ineffective. Stabilisers tend to reduce the extremes of the whole heat, making them much shorter and with fewer strong symptoms, so that many omegas can simply take a single day off at the peak of their heat and otherwise appear entirely unaffected.  _

 

β -  Ruts

_ Less regular and predictable than omegan heats are alpha ruts. These appear to be triggered by hormone surges (they often happen at puberty, or later in life at the ‘menopausal’ stage), or in response to strong pheromonal signals, such as meeting a particularly compatible mate, or being exposed to a high number of omegas in heat.  _

_ Ruts consist of a week-long period of ‘courting’, where the alpha becomes very devoted to looking after the needs of their mate - or a potential mate, or anyone in need, if a mate is unavailable. Alphas will tend to want to feed, protect, clothe and generally take care of the focus of their attention. Note that this stage is NOT inherently sexual. It is common for unbonded alphas to focus their attention on a family member, platonic friend, or even a child - the alpha simply needs to look after someone, and this urge is distinct and separate from the later urge to mate.  _

_ The full rut stage also takes about a week, and this is characterised by a very strong sexual drive. Again, note that while an alpha in rut has a strong desire to have sex, they are always responsible for their actions and decisions. Hormonally-stable alphas do not ‘lose control’ during rut, and are still able to make considered choices about their behaviour. The end of rut seems to be abrupt, with the sexual urges simply fading away over a couple of hours, though the caring urges may linger a little longer. _

 

γ -  Full Moon

_ Despite urban legend, there is no truth at all to the idea that gramma heats and ruts are triggered by phases of the moon. It’s likely that a certain proportion of grammas will be in heat or rut during a full moon, and as these are the times when grammas are most noticeable and their behaviour is at its most different from allo behaviour, it may seem like the moon has caused the change, but this has been heavily researched and has been proven time and again to be completely unrelated.  _

 

δ -  Going Wild

_ Similarly, despite all you may have heard, there is no truth to the myths that during heats and ruts, grammas are unable to control themselves and turn into animalistic monsters. Alphas, in particular, have been clinically shown to still be fully aware of morals, ethics and good decision-making factors while in rut. An alpha cannot use rut as an excuse for violent or sexual crimes. Omegas are slightly different in that unsatisfied heats cause physical pain and distress, so it is understandable that an omega may seek out ways to relieve this discomfort. However, they are still able to make considered choices during heats, and most do their utmost not to bring undue attention to their condition.  _

_ Having said that, there have been rare documented cases of a severe hormonal imbalance causing very extreme behaviour in both alphas and omegas. This is a medical problem and is not indicative of the individual’s character. It is likely that these outliers to the norms of gramma biology are the basis for many of the myths and misconceptions which still cling to them today.  _

 

ε -  Mating for Life

_ Many people have heard that grammas choose a partner and stay with them until death. Alphas and omegas are very scent or pheromone-driven, and when a compatible mate is found there is often a very powerful drive to remain with them. This urge is also increased by ‘bonding bites’, which release dopamine, oxytocin and vasopressin, all of which cause strong feelings of euphoria, attachment and closeness. Alphas, in particular, tend to be possessive of their bonded mates, and bonded omegas tend to want to maintain a strong family unit for any offspring, which increase the likelihood of the couple staying together. Bonds can be broken, however, particularly in the absence of the partner’s scent for a prolonged time. Unbonded gramma couples are no more or less likely to stay together than similar beta couples.  _

 

ζ - P romiscuity

_ The other widely-held idea about grammas is that they are very promiscuous (often this view is held alongside the idea that they bond for life), and to beta eyes, this may be somewhat based in truth. Unbonded grammas may well engage in what could be seen as ‘casual’ sex when an omega is in heat - though they would argue that this is a physiological way of easing the discomfort of the heat and is not inherently romantic or erotic, but a means to an end to ameliorate distress. If rut and heat-partners are disregarded, grammas tend to have roughly comparable or lower numbers of sexual partners as allos. Even counting rut and heat-partners, grammas’ numbers are not hugely elevated as they tend to turn to close, trusted people repeatedly, rather than choosing many different people.  _

 

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “You’re sending me into the field,  _ now, _ of all times?” He replaced his glasses and pinned Merlin with an icy stare. Merlin caught himself wondering if the intensity of Harry’s glares was actually inversely proportional to the number of eyes he had or if it was a correlation-causation illusion, and whether he could devise a way to test this - without, of course, actually removing Harry’s remaining eye because that would mean dividing by zero which could collapse the experiment or possibly increase the glare-intensity to infinity and either way, Harry would be epically pissed off. At the moment, he was only a smidge pissed off. It was still rather unnerving.   _ “Now, _ when you’ve forcibly made me change my physiology,  _ this _ is when you want to send me out for three months?”

Merlin pressed his lips together for a moment but was ultimately unapologetic. “Yes, Harry. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He flipped a page on his clipboard and then, ominously, set it aside. “Look. You’re still under neuropsych observation with the whole… butterflies... thing. So I can’t use you in acute field missions. But you’re otherwise healthy and fit and on the whole, ready to work so I don’t want to waste you on paperwork. And now this reconnaissance job has come up. A few weeks or a month or two of watching and listening, dropping and collecting bugs and generally schmoozing and boozing with the locals. Easy work for you, invaluable for me, you get a working holiday, I get the intel I need - everybody’s happy.”

“I am not happy, Merlin.” Harry grumbled, reaching grudgingly for the briefing file.

Merlin coped astonishingly well with this news. “So. You are Mr Harry Harrington of Malvern and you’re--”

“You’ve called me Harry fucking Harrington?” Harry snapped the file shut incredulously before he’d read a single word.. “Oh come now, Merlin…” He opened it again and scanned the pages, teeth gritted. 

Merlin was unruffled. “...and you’re recently divorced and have just taken early retirement so you’re celebrating with a once in a lifetime trip with Lifetime Luxury Cruises.” 

“Merlin! It says here I’m nearly sixty!” Harry jabbed a finger at his alias’ birthdate in the file.

Not a flicker of response from Merlin, who continued doggedly with the briefing. “You have a younger sister with three almost-adult children, the youngest of whom has been caught up in a spot of bother at university - mixing with the wrong crowd, that type of thing. So you, dear old uncle Harry, are taking him under your wing a bit, and stopping him getting into more mischief by bringing him with you.”

Harry’s vague sense of unease coagulated into a definite feeling of impending unpleasantness. “I’m taking a nephew. With me. On the cruise.” It was a statement, not a question, but Merlin answered the unspoken query anyway. 

“A lively lad. Bright, but a bit easily distracted. Mr Gareth Firtherton. Known to his friends as ‘Eggsy’.”

 

* * *

“You what?” Eggsy took his cap off and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re sending me to do reconnaissance? Like, now, when we’ve never been busier?” He replaced his cap at a slightly different angle and slouched in his seat, crossing his arms. Merlin wondered if bolshy, teenage hostility was learned from watching peers and through media or if in some people it was just purely innate, and just how badly it would break research ethical guidelines to raise some kids with and without those belligerent influences to see whether the behaviours kicked in naturally at age thirteen. Eggsy did a perfect inner-city high school scoff.  “I mean, we’ve got all this shit going down and you want me sat on my arse just  _ watching _ stuff for bloody months on end?”

Merlin resisted the urge to bark at him to sit up straight and tuck his bloody shirt in. It was Saturday and he’d been called in on his day off, it was perfectly understandable he’d be in his… civilian clothes. “That’s right, Eggsy. This is where I need you to be right now.” At Eggsy’s huff of disgruntlement, he put down his clipboard. “Look. You’re an excellent agent and you’ve proven yourself invaluable in the field time and time again but if you keep up this pace of work you’re gonna be headed rapidly towards burning out. You were recruited at an exceptional time, Eggsy. This is not how Kingsman usually treats its agents. All of you are overstretched and overworked and  _ you _ in particular haven’t had a decent break for over a year. What you need is pure downtime, but I can’t spare you so I’m giving you the next best thing. You get a chilled-out reconnaissance mission, I get information, medical stop bitching at me for wearing you out, everyone’s happy.”

“Well I ain’t happy, bruv, y’get me?” Eggsy clicked his tongue and grabbed the briefing file from the desk.

Merlin remained unperturbed. “Alright. Noted. So. You’re Mr Gareth Firtherton of Gloucestershire, and you’re currently--”

“Oi, what?” Eggsy dropped the folder onto his lap, folding his arms again. “Firtherton? What kind of bullshit made-up name is that?” He yanked the cover of the file open, glaring at the pages as he skim-read the contents. 

Merlin ignored the interruption. “...you’re currently taking a gap year from uni after getting a bit too deeply into an escalating prank war.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Merlin, you’ve made me twenty fucking one!” Eggsy waved a photocopy of his alias’ passport. “I swear, you’re obsessed with me being in school.”

Refusing to be baited, Merlin carried on. “Your wealthy uncle has booked himself a retirement holiday - a luxury cruise - and as a favour to your mother, is taking you along with him to keep you out of trouble.”

“What the fuck is a twenty one year old uni student gonna do on a boat in the middle of nowhere?” Eggsy grumbled. Then a small crease appeared between his brows. “Wait, my uncle’s taking me with him? Who’s my uncle?” He sat up, fidgeting. 

“A sprightly and successful professional gentleman by the name of Harry.”   
  


* * *

“You have got to be bloody joking.” Harry stood up and paced across the room, reached the door, hesitated for a moment then spun on his heel and marched back. “You’re sending me to stay on a bloody cruise ship with Eggsy?  _ Eggsy! _ Of all people!”

“He needs some time to recuperate just as much - if not more than - you do. And he’s a good agent, very reliable in a tight spot. And like it or not, you two work very well together.” Merlin ticked off his arguments on his fingers. 

“Oh yes, this is pure business, isn’t it? Nothing at all to do with any personal processes that some people might be going through.” Harry sat down and put his head in his hands. Stood up again. Paced to the door and back again. “Nothing to do with how some people may feel about some other people - and no that is  _ not _ a fucking admission so you’re right so wipe that smirk off your face.” He stopped in front of a bookcase and addressed it angrily, “Sometimes you’re such a meddler!”

Merlin held his hands up. “Harry, please.” He touched a certain part of the desk and a section of the surface slid back to reveal a cubby that held a bottle of Scotch and three glasses. “Do you want a drink?”

“No I do not want--” Harry paused. “Yes. A drink. Make it a double.” He sat down again, adjusting his tie and cufflinks. When Merlin passed him the glass, he took a large mouthful and let it sit in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. He held the glass between his two hands, warming the whisky, and waited with simmering patience for Merlin to explain himself. 

After knocking back a tot for himself, Merlin took a deep breath. “Okay. Harry. Regardless of any ‘personal processes’ that might be occurring, Eggsy would still be my choice to accompany you on this operation.” He held his hand up to quiet Harry’s objection. “Having said that, I have to admit that yes, there is an added element of serendipity in that he, as an open alpha, will be able to… not ‘look after’, but…” he groped for the words,”...just  _ available _ for you to talk to. He’s a good lad, he’ll understand, he’ll be sympathetic, he might even be helpful.”

Harry’s knuckles whitened as his grip on the glass tightened. “I don’t want him to be bloody  _ sympathetic _ ,” he snarled. “I don’t want him to have  _ anything _ to do with this and I absolutely don’t want his  _ pity _ for a repressed old man struggling to cope with the new world order, or his anger at the abused gramma forced to suppress himself for the sake of the family name. I’m not having some upstart social justice warrior telling me how I’ve let myself be ‘raped by the alloarchy’ all my life.”

“Oh shut up,” Merlin snapped, starting to get annoyed. “You’re hardly old, you’re only struggling to cope with yourself, not the rest of the world, and… ‘repressed’,  _ really _ ?” he shot a pointed look at Harry. “As for anger over suppression: he knows his history, he knows why people made the choices they did. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start looking at the opportunities.”

“I am  _ not _ asking Eggsy out, Merlin,” Harry growled. “Will you please get that ridiculous idea out of your head? It isn’t going to happen.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of opportunities to talk to another gramma in your line of work so you could compare notes on coping strategies or coming out or whatever, but  _ now that you’ve brought it up… _ ” Harry groaned. “...I’m not blind, Harry. You can barely keep your eyes off the lad and even though I know you won’t believe me, he’s exactly the same for you.”

Harry scoffed. “Whatever you think you’re seeing, you’re wrong. I’m old enough to be his bloody father! You’re just about to send me out to pose as his uncle!”

“And so what? How many years were there between  _ your _ parents, Harry?” Merlin shot back. 

Harry stiffened and took another careful swallow of whisky, letting the warmth spread before he allowed himself to speak again. “That’s different. It was a different time. And my parents were in love. And they were allos. And civilians. They were  _ normal _ .”

Merlin sighed. “You’re not abnormal, Harry. Well, apart from the super spy thing. And the being shot in the head thing. And your freakishly long legs. And your taste for using dead animals as interior decor.”

Finally, Harry actually smiled. He drained off his whisky and handed the glass back. “You’re a good friend, Merlin. A bloody massive pain in the arse, but a good friend.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably right about Eggsy being the best person to be trapped with during all of…  _ this. _ Though purely platonically, I hasten to add.”

“Do you want me to tell him? Confidentially, of course, but just… give him a heads up?”

Harry paused for a moment, considering. “No. I’ll tell him. I’d feel odd, having him briefed about me like I’m another mission objective. It’d be better that I do it myself.”

Merlin shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Harry stood and stretched, various joints clicking. “Okay, so. The mission. Talk me through it.” He sat down again, briefing file on his knee, back to business.

“Yes, the mission.” Merlin picked up his clipboard again and flicked through pages.

 

* * *

“Harry?” Eggsy blinked. “You’re sending me on a cruise with Harry?” He shifted uncomfortably. “Why?”

“Is there a problem Agent?” Merlin asked, a little sharply. 

“No, I just… Why  _ Harry? _ ” Eggsy chewed at the corner of his lip. 

Merlin started counting off reasons on his fingers. “He’s still in recovery from his head injury. Physically he’s fine, but he isn’t quite up to coping with all the stresses of full field work. Plus you make a very effective pair: he’s got the experience, you’ve got the energy. You’re both in dire need of as much of a break as I can give you, so this is it.” 

“Right. Okay.” Eggsy was quiet. Merlin waited. “I just… have you asked Harry how he feels about it?”

Merlin frowned. “Agent Galahad has accepted the mission, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eggsy shook his head. “No, it’s more like… I mean… Look, I know this sounds dumb as hell, mate, but I just don’t think Harry likes being around me anymore. And I don’t want there to be any like, awkwardness on a mission. That’s all.”

Merlin was actually speechless for a moment. “Doesn’t like… What on earth gave you that idea, lad?”

Eggsy shrugged. “I dunno. We used to get along fine, and then after Kentucky, I’ve hardly seen him at all. We see each other at briefings, pass each other in the corridors, but that’s all. I think…” he hesitated, “I think he disapproves of me.”

“Disapproves?”

“Of me coming out, like. As alpha.” Eggsy uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “Everything was fine until then and ever since, he’s been kinda… distant.” His lip quivered slightly and he twitched his head as if shaking the expression away. “He’s never been like, outwardly intolerant or anything, in any way at all. Never said or done anything bad. He’s just been like, absent. I don’t know what it is, we used to hang out and chat and laugh and stuff. Now he’s never there. Or when he is, sometimes I catch him staring at me, like he’s trying to figure me out.” He went quiet again for a moment, then cleared his throat. “So I think maybe I make him uncomfortable on some level, or something. Which I get, it’s alright. But I’m not sure it’s a great idea for you to trap him with me for months at a time if he’s gonna be uneasy or whatever.”

Merlin gave Eggsy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Eggsy, lad. I promise you, Harry is not grammaphobic. He’s one of the most open-minded, accepting people I know. And if there’s been any distance between you two, or odd behaviour, it is absolutely not because of your dynamic. Blame the job, blame his head injury, blame bad luck and poor timing, but don’t blame Harry.”

Eggsy shook his head in frustration. “Nah, nah, mate. I know that he ain’t a phobe. He’da never made me his candidate for Lancelot if he were, would he? It’s more like it’s a thing about  _ me _ , in particular.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I just kinda feel like he thinks I did the wrong thing, coming out at Kingsman. He was pretty emphatic when I was training that I kept it to myself, but I thought that that was because Chester was an arsehole. Now I think maybe he thinks I’m unnecessarily rocking the boat, drawing attention to myself. Being a bit too… I dunno…” He spread his hands. “He seemed to like me better when I kept it hidden. I feel like I’ve disappointed him, in that respect.”

There was a silence while Merlin digested this and Eggsy picked at his fingernails. Eventually, Merlin cleared his throat. “I’ve known Harry a long time, and I can’t imagine he’d ever be disappointed in you, Eggsy. Your achievements have been fantastic, and Harry practically glows with pride whenever you’re mentioned.” He tilted his head. “I think it’s more likely to be that Harry comes from that upper-class background where it was often an open secret that someone was gramma, but it was also the absolute height of bad manners to mention it or allude to it in any way. In his circles, you knew, but you never spoke of it, ever - or that person might suddenly go to ‘visit’ a relative in Australia or ‘unfortunately’ get very ill. For hundreds of years they conditioned their kids to completely avoid the subject. And now the world’s finally changing but sometimes I don’t think he’s ever really got over that kind of brainwashing from when he was a kid.”

“But why would that make him avoid me?” Eggsy made a valiant effort to keep the whine out of his voice. 

“I don’t know, lad,” Merlin shrugged. “Perhaps he just doesn’t know how to react amongst open grammas, I don’t think he knows that many. He’s always kept himself to himself. Bit I promise you, it’s not something you’ve done. It’ll be Harry’s personal mule-headed issue and one day he’ll just suddenly get over it and it’ll be like there was never any issue at all. He’s like that.”

Eggsy forced a smile. “You think? I know it’s weird, but I really miss him in a way, y’know? I thought we got on well. He seems like a good guy to go to the pub with.”

“He is. Though, Christ, can he put it away. Never let him challenge you to a drinking match. That’s some advice I can offer from experience.” Merlin shook his head ruefully. 

“I really can’t imagine Harry Hart challenging someone to a drinking match,” Eggsy laughed. 

“Believe it! When he lets his hair down, he’s atrocious. You will never meet a bigger flirt.”

“Harry Hart, right? Tall bloke? Handsome? One eye? Legs for days?” Eggsy looked skeptical. 

Merlin grinned. “That’s the one.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “A flirt, eh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Merlin nodded. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He reached for his clipboard. “Now, about this bloody mission…”

 

* * *

To be fair, Merlin  _ had _ warned him. 

They’d packed suitcases of expensive holiday clothes and a whole host of Kingsman gadgets and devices, and first flown out to Sydney via Hong Kong, then on to Fiji, where a helicopter had collected them to take them out to the transpacific luxury-liner,  _ Lifetime Indulgence _ . A behemoth of shiny metal and polished glass, it towered like a city skyscraper over the waves. Too big to call in at most ports, the ship almost never docked, instead chugging along around the Pacific at a stately pace and lurking outside harbours, while passengers used smaller boats as taxis if they wanted to visit land. After a couple of months of hugging coastlines,  _ Lifetime Indulgence _ would restock, gear up and go for a month-long “mid-ocean retreat”, where all passengers stayed onboard enjoying increasingly-extravagant and outrageous entertainments in waters free of any country's’ laws. 

Rumours abounded of ‘anything goes’ parties and whole sections of the ship given over to indulging all kinds of vices, and sales of all kinds of goods - the vast majority with absolutely no corroborating evidence, but _ just enough _ consistency to make Kingsman suspicious. Granted, it wasn’t just tales of indecorous behaviour that had brought them there - the agency were not the Thought Police. No, it was more the web of links with groups known for drug smuggling, gun running, human trafficking and illegal animal experimentation that warranted the investigation. As well as a surprisingly high number of research scientists and pharmacology executives. Eggsy and Harry’s job was to infiltrate the parties and try to determine if there was anything more serious going on than a bunch of crime lords and rich kids throwing themselves an epic party under the guise of an expensive holiday. They had a month to settle in while the ship stayed close to land, and then the surveillance would start in earnest as it sailed out into the middle of the ocean. 

Considering the resources at Kingsman’s disposal, Eggsy was a bit miffed about the accommodation. They had an ‘ocean view suite’ which comprised a miniscule bathroom, a sleeping area with double bed, a living area with sofabed, and a balcony just big enough for two chairs and the door, though Harry had to sit sideways as his knees butted uncomfortably against the railing if he faced the sea. So much for luxury. 

Eggsy had insisted that Harry have the bed, “your bones are older than mine, mate, you need a decent mattress,” and they’d spent a couple of weeks awkwardly dancing around each other, being ever-so-polite and courteous and careful to give each other space and privacy and barely seeing each other except for mornings and late at night. Then Eggsy had gone to a cocktails evening, and Harry had spent a few hours at a cognac and cigars night, sampling a vast array of offerings and they’d met each other going back to the room at the deck 5 lobby, both completely plastered, and had spent what felt like twenty minutes, but turned out to be a good couple of hours, wandering around the maze of identical internal corridors bickering about which was the best way to get to their room. And really, once you’ve staggered about a massive floating hotel in the early hours, drunk out of your head and dying for a piss while being shot disapproving glares and the occasional annoyed shushing from people you were waking up, and then finally find your room only to discover that it’s not your room, your room is one level up, and then dragged your lanky colleague up the stairs before he started a fight about usurpers and then found your  _ actual _ room - thank fucking god - and then had the same lanky colleague stumble into the bathroom while you were having the World’s Longest Piss and  _ actually join you in pissing _ … Well, it’s a bit pointless pretending you have no idea where that fart smell came from, isn’t it?

And just like that, the ice had broken. The next morning - or afternoon, actually - they’d nursed their hangovers over sweet black filter coffee in the blissful near-silence of the library, then gone to the barbeque grill and shared a platter of greasy meat and carbs. Harry had initially declared the idea disgusting but had soon changed his mind when his mouth was full of crispy bacon and his plate was piled high with triple-cooked chips. 

“This is so odd,” he commented, through a mouthful of salami, “my brain is telling me this is a terrible idea, but my body is insisting I keep eating this stuff and I’m actually starting to feel better for it.” He dipped a chip in barbeque sauce and examined it closely before eating it. “Witchcraft.”

“I’m guessing you ain’t never had a Wetherspoons fry-up after a night on the town, Harr?” Eggsy was alternating sips of strong black tea and tap water, forcing himself to rehydrate. 

“To my knowledge, Eggsy, I’ve never eaten anything from a Wetherspoon.” Harry speared a large bratwurst with his fork and quickly raised it to his lips to lick the gravy that dripped from it, then actually sucked on it for a moment. Eggsy stared, mesmerised. Harry took a bite off the end and chewed thoughtfully, apparently completely unaware of Eggsy’s enthralled attention, “Though if they do food like this, I may consider trying one.” He realised that Eggsy was grinning at him. “...What?”

“Nothing, Harr,” Eggsy smirked. “I just never had you down as a sausage man.”

“Oh?” Harry took another slow bite, “I’ve been known to be very partial to a thick sausage every now and then.” His eyelid flickered in what could have been a wink, but when you can’t see the other damn eye, how are you supposed to tell the difference between a wink and a blink? Eggsy felt a flash of heat uncoil in his belly and immediately doused it by telling himself he was being fucking ridiculous. He desperately groped his mind for something to say when they were blessedly interrupted by the waitress enquiring about how they liked the food.

 

* * *

Eggsy had taken himself off to the gym to work off the last of his hangover so Harry made their daily routine check-in with HQ, reporting formally that they were settling in, a few strategic bugs had been planted in likely-looking areas, a couple of people had caught their attention and may be worthy of some digging. He relayed efficiently and quickly. 

“And how are  _ you _ ?” Merlin asked, once all the formalities were over.

Harry’s lip curled. “You were right.”

“I’m sorry, what was that? I think you might have to repeat it for posterity.” Merlin cupped a hand to his ear.

“You were  _ right _ ,” Harry rolled his eyes. “We both got drunk, we both behaved appallingly - me rather more than him - and now everything is so much easier.”

“I’m trying  _ so _ hard not to actually say it.” Merlin was grinning so broadly his cheek muscles must be aching. 

Harry shrugged. “You told me so. There. I said it for you.” He lay on his back on the bed, holding the tablet up in the air to keep talking.

“And have you told  _ him _ so?” 

A big sigh. “I haven’t. I just… Until today we’ve barely talked so there hasn’t been any opportunity.”

Merlin glared into the camera. “...Harry…”

“I know, I know.” Harry rolled over onto his stomach, propping the tablet up against a pillow. “I’m going to start taking the dose-reduction pills tonight. That’ll give me a week until I’m completely off the pressin. And I  _ will _ tell him before he scents it.”

“My offer still stands. I can do a friendly word in his ear man-to-man, or formally brief him as an agent or anywhere in between, just let me know.”

Harry smiled gratefully. “I know. And thank you, but no. This is something I know I should do for myself.”

“How’s he doing?” Merlin asked, almost as an afterthought.

“He’s great - loving the ship. He says the sofabed is comfortable, but I suspect he’s being nice to an old man. Sharing space is… easier than I expected, but then I expected it to be fucking awful so…” Harry shrugged. 

“How’s he smelling?” Merlin teased. 

Harry sighed. “Fucking divine… And this is with me still fully suppressed.” He put his hands over his mouth and nose and groaned. “It’s going to be awful, Merlin.”

“Why, you great eejit?”

“Because I can barely behave myself around him when I’m drugged to the gills, and it is reprehensible of me to subject him to my depravities when he’s trapped here with me.” Harry almost snapped.

Merlin actually laughed. “Your ‘depravities’. For fuck’s sake. He’s not a kid. If he doesn’t want any, he’ll soon tell you to fuck off.”

“Oh brilliant. That’s an encouraging thought.” Harry puffed out a self pitying sigh. “Everyone’s going to think I’m a dirty old man.”

“And so fucking what? You’re as old as the man you feel, eh? They can spend their time being judgemental, you can spend your time in some bloody attractive arse.”

“...that was… graphically put.” Harry blinked. “Oh this is ridiculous, Merlin! Why am I doing this to myself? Alphas fuck and omegas get fucked. That’s the way the world works. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Merlin soothed. You just have more of an open mind than most people. That’s a  _ good _ thing.” 

“Right.” Harry grumbled. “Try telling that to the mob when they’re kicking your head in”

“This is the twenty fucking first century, Harry. You’re on a cruise well-known for it’s remarkable ‘open-mindedness’. There is no mob. There will be no head kicking. Now stop being such a fucking misery-guts and go and show your face around like you’re supposed to.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry sat up and reached for his shoes. “But if I get kicked in the head on this mission, I am absolutely blaming you.”

“Noted.”

 

* * *

So that they were seen around every area of the ship, Harry had booked them both into the spa and Eggsy had a simultaneously joyous and uncomfortable hour of being massaged while watching an increasingly naked Harry also be rubbed down with oil. The appreciative moans and groans Harry let out as the knots were worked out of his muscles were certainly something that echoed around Eggsy’s mind for some time

They ended up - somehow - in the steam room. Nude, save for towels around the waist, sat in the close stripped-pine box, both sweating profusely. The awkwardness had returned, Eggsy trying desperately to think of something to say to break the tension, as the silence slowly stretched out thinner and thinner as each minute ticked by. The steam got thicker, filling the room with swirls of vapour until they could barely see each other, although they were sat just a foot or so apart. 

And then, out of the fog, Harry asked, “So…. do you come here often?” and it had been just the right amount of suggestive and ridiculous that Eggsy had burst out laughing. Harry chuckled with him. “Sorry, I had to. It was that or ‘get your towel, love, you’ve pulled’, but that’s going a bit far, even for me.”

Eggsy laughed harder. “Christ,, have any of those lines actually worked for anyone?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully, “I once had some spectacular success with ‘that’s a lovely tie - it’d be perfect on my door handle’.”

Eggsy snorted. “You fucking did not! Harry, that’s  _ awful! _ ”

“It was a pretty long time ago. Although I think I might actually still have the tie somewhere at home. It turned out he was married and he left in rather a hurry.”

“Ouch.” Eggsy winced sympathetically. 

Harry shrugged. “C’est la vie.” He settled back against the wooden wall, relaxing a little and Eggsy tried hard not to notice the beads of sweat gleaming on his chest. “My personal favourite has always been ‘if I asked out out to dinner, would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?’ Though you do need to target that one quite specifically.”

“If I asked you… what?” Eggsy shuffled round on the bench, bringing his ankle up to rest on his knee and adjusting his towel. 

Harry grinned at him. “The question is: ‘would your answer to coming-out-to-dinner be the same as the answer to this question?’ So If they say ‘yes’, then they would come out to dinner, as the two answers are the same. And if they say ‘no’, then they would also come out to dinner as the two answers are different, so it’s a yes to dinner as well.”

There was a pause as Eggsy followed the logic through. “Fuck me, Harry, that is some next-level shit. All I’ve got is ‘if I said that you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?’”

Harry smirked at that one. “How about ‘you’re so good looking you made me forget my pick-up line, so let’s just skip straight to me buying you a drink’?”

Eggsy laughed. “Oh, you suave fucker. I’ve got one. Harry, you make a lovely cup of tea, you must have a bit of Cockney in you, right?” he gestured at Harry for a reply.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but played along, “No, South Central born and bred, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, right. So… would you like some?” Eggsy winked. 

“Eggsy!” Harry sounded genuinely shocked, but he was grinning from ear to ear. 

“What? Like yours weren’t filthy too!” Eggsy fanned his face with his hand. “Fuck me, it’s hot.” He used a corner of his towel to wipe the sweat from his face and let out a big sigh.  “I’ve never really used that many lines, to be honest. Tight jeans and an alpha-symbol necklace and beta girls will be all over you in most of the clubs. It’s kinda fun, but you know it’s not gonna go anywhere so after a while it feels a bit pointless.” He picked at a loose thread. 

Harry made a sympathetic noise and crossed his legs. “Why wouldn’t it go anywhere?”

“Eh, girls like that, they’re just after some alpha cock - sorry to be frank - so it’s not really an ideal base for a relationship. Plus the shagging is a bit awkward and usually… not really great from my side of things. So it’s not even like you have that to coast along with.”

“Oh?” Harry managed to not actually ask the question, but it hung in the air between them. 

Eggsy could feel himself blushing. “Uh, yeah. So like… Beta girls don’t have the um…  _ anatomy _ for sex with alphas. Not without like, a bit of careful preparation, and some have this weird thing about not wanting to be ‘stretched out’ as if like, they think an alpha cock is gonna be bigger than a fucking baby’s head. But whatever, they often don’t want the knot in them. So like… you’re not like, all the way  _ in _ . Which is fine, it still feels good, it’s still fun - but it’s not  _ great _ .”

“A firm grip in the right place at the right time usually does the trick,” Harry murmured. 

“Yeah, yeah, but the beta chicks usually don’t know that, and then they get all weirded out wondering what you’re doing back there if you try to do it yourself.” Eggsy paused for a beat and then his head snapped up. “ _ Harry! _ How do  _ you _ know a trick like that?” His eyes gleamed with scandalous delight. 

Harry opened his mouth, shut it, then cleared his throat. “I’ve… experimented, over the years.” He tried to change the subject. “So what about omegas?”

“Oh no no no, you’re not wiggling out of this that easily.” Eggsy shuffled forward to the edge of the bench. “Have you shagged grammas?”

Harry screwed his face up, shaking his head. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he admonished.

“Bollocks to that, mate.” Eggsy scoffed. “Look, no names, nothing identifying. No one’s honour will be besmirched. It’s just me. C’mon, I’ll answer anything you ask. Fair’s fair.”

Harry sighed melodramatically as if he’d been browbeaten into defeat. “Fine. You get three questions. What do you want to know?”

Eggsy actually wiggled in his seat with excitement. He could ask Harry anything. His brain immediately regressed back to primary school and wrote a note in felt tip pen saying: ‘Do you LIKE me? Yes [ ] No [ ]’. He pushed the childishness aside and blurted out something safer. “Um… well I already asked the first one: have you ever shagged a gramma?”

Harry barked a laugh. “I would have thought that was obvious, but if you want to waste one of your questions... Yes, Eggsy, I have.” 

“Oh come on! And the rest! Where’s the detail?” Eggsy protested, steadfastly ignoring the lurch in his belly at Harry so casually admitting it. If it had been a big deal to him, he surely wouldn’t have said it so easily, right? Which meant that it couldn’t have been too bad. Which meant that he might be up for another go? Ah, wait. “Which was it?” He asked, forcing himself to stop biting his lip. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t bothered whichever way Harry replied. It didn’t matter. It--

A teasing smirk. “Both. And that was your second question. You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Both. Fucking  _ both _ . Harry Hart had fucked an alpha. Eggsy’s brain fizzled and he struggled to form some kind of reply. He was grateful for the dim light and the steam, certain that he must be blushing. “Fuck. Really? Shit. Okay, okay, let me think…” Eggsy tapped his fingers on his thigh, considering. He had to up his game. Think of something good. No more yes or no questions. “Okay, so… put them in order of what you liked best: alpha, omega, beta.”

Harry sucked a breath in through his teeth. “That’s… really difficult. Are we talking relationships or sex?”

“Pfft, sex, obviously.” Eggsy was grateful for his rough estate background at that moment, he pulled off the blasé brushing-aside of feelings with practiced ease. 

“Fair enough. Do you want to know in general terms which I would choose if i was offered a partner right now, or specifically about my experiences with individuals in the past? Bearing in mind -” he held up a finger, “- that I’m not going to go into any identifying details. You can pick one or the other for me to answer.”

“Ugh, you are so cagey!” Eggsy pouted for a second. He wanted to know  _ everything. _ Steady now. Don’t go overboard… “Fine, go with past experiences. We’ll talk about future choices another time.” He grinned broadly with a flicker of a wink. 

Harry tilted his head at that, but let it go, thinking. “Hmmmn, I would say... beta, alpha, omega.”

“Gonna expand on that answer at all?” Eggsy coaxed. 

Harry smiled sweetly at him. “Sorry, you’re out of questions for today.”

“Only for today, eh?” Eggsy nodded. “Right. I’ll remember that tomorrow.” He could feel a low quiver of deep anticipation take root in his belly - like being six years old on Christmas Eve. 

Harry groaned,“oh god... what have I done?” while Eggsy cackled triumphantly at him. He lifted his head. “Wait, do I get three questions too?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Only fair.” He shifted on the bench, uncrossing and recrossing his legs, feeling stupidly nervous about what Harry might want to know. 

Harry pondered for a moment, increasing Eggy’s anxiety,, then spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “In terms of sex, in your past experience, put alpha, omega and beta in order of preference.”

“You bastard! You’re gonna get all the same intel out of me with my own fucking question!” Eggsy complained.

Harry nodded with a broad smile. “Yes I am. Not my fault you’re terrible at interrogation.”

Eggsy folded his arms in mock-sulk. “Fucking unfair, bruv. That’s dirty tactics. I’ll remember this for tomorrow’s questions.”

“Are you going to answer the question, or chicken out?” There was a note of challenge in Harry’s voice that Eggsy couldn’t help rising to. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Right. So…Just on the basis of a bloody good shag, it’d be… omega, beta, and… I ain’t never been with an alpha, so I dunno.” He watched Harry carefully. He’d been tempted to put beta first, but it just wasn’t true and a tiny part of him wondered if Harry might be interested in seeing if he could change Eggsy’s order. 

Harry cocked his head slightly, but nodded. Fucking inscrutable. “Alright. So, same question, but in terms of relationships.”

“Oof…” Eggsy was quiet for a bit while he thought. His relationship history was woefully short; he’d always been too distracted by protecting his mum and then the baby to devote the time and energy that another person deserved. He scraped together an answer. “Well, again, I’ve never been with an alpha so that don’t count. And ain’t really had a real relationship with an omega, so I guess it’d be beta, omega, and alpha as a wildcard.”

“You’ve never had a relationship with an omega?” Harry asked a little incredulous. 

“Is that your third question, Harry?” Eggsy teased, while inside his heart sank a little. Betas didn’t  _ understand _ . You don’t have ‘relationships’ with omegas unless you’re courting them for a potential mate. Friendships, yes. Heat-sex, yes. But unless there was that pheromonal  _ pull _ ...

Harry shrugged. “Go on then. Why haven’t you had a relationship with an omega?”

Eggsy puffed out a long breath, leaning back against the wall. “Eh, I dunno. I’ve shagged a few when they’re in heat, but I’ve never had any real urge to go back to them outside of heat when the pheromones aren’t there. And like, they’ve not exactly hounded me with texts and calls so it seems like it’s been mutual. I know I shouldn’t put too much thought into how they are in heat, but a lot of the time omegas seem… I dunno… needy? Clingy? That’s a gross generalisation, and I hate myself for buying into it, but like, that’s how it feels sometimes.” He made himself shut up, all too aware of how shallow and uncaring he sounded. 

“I would agree that during heat, there’s definitely a strong element of having to ‘look after’, which is… somewhat stressful,” Harry commented with careful diplomacy. “In my experience, at least. Although many are incredibly strong-willed and independent the rest of the time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know that. I’ve just… not met one I clicked with I guess. I seem to be the reliable alpha for heat duty. ‘Call Eggsy, he’ll take care of you and won’t even joke about biting ya.’ But much less interesting as an actual  _ mate _ . So.. yeah,” he sighed. “Not very exciting, eh? Not like you!” he nudged Harry’s shin with his foot. “Interdynamic Cassanova that you are, you fuckin’ dark horse.” Fucking  _ hell _ , he wanted to know more about Harry’s history. He wanted to know  _ everything _ . And oh fuck… All this talk was having the obvious effect on him and he only had a fucking tiny towel to cover himself. 

Harry actually blushed. “I’m not sure that I--”

Eggsy carried blithely on, unable to stop his mouth while he frantically tried to think of a way to get out of here without Harry noticing the state he was in. “S’alright for betas, though, innit? You’re in the middle, biologically speaking, so however you lean, you’re gonna find someone up for it. If I wanted to experiment with another alpha I’d probably only end up with a fucking black eye.” He fanned himself with his hand again and puffed air up his face to try to blow his sticky hair off his forehead. “Christ, I can’t stay here much longer.”  _ Right, you’re hot, you’re getting out. Just get up and leave quickly. If you keep moving, he won’t see.  _

Harry hesitated. “Eggsy, I…” he stopped. “I was hoping… I’d like to talk to you about something - if that’s--”

“Sure thing, Harry,” Eggsy was standing, heading for the door. “But I cannot stay in this sweatbox for another fucking second. Sorry!” There was a blast of arctic air as he yanked the door open, dropped his towel and walked straight into the plunge pool with a resounding splash. “ _ Fuck me _ that’s cold!” he yelled on surfacing, “ _ shitting _ hell!” Well. That  _ certainly _ took care of his problem, at least - even if his abrupt exit had been a bit weird. 

He scrabbled to catch hold of a corner of his towel so he could get out, skin bright red from the sudden change from hot to cold. “You coming, Harr? Look, I’ll even turn around to preserve your modesty, eh?” He turned his back until Harry’s splash caught him on the back of the legs. “Bastard! You got my towel wet!”

“Bowdlerisations!” Harry gasped out, flinging cold water everywhere as he flicked his hair back from his face.

Eggsy burst out laughing. “Epic swearing, Harry. Top marks.”

“I’ll top mark  _ you _ …” Harry grumbled, wrapping his towel back around him as he clambered out of the pool. 

“Tremblin’ in my boots, I am.” Eggsy stuck his tongue out. “I’m gonna have a shower; see you for dinner?”

“Dinner,” Harry agreed, and watched Eggsy disappear towards his locker.

 

* * *

They went to the Asian restaurant and Harry suggested they try the tasting menu, which came in nine tiny courses of incredibly elaborate deliciousness. After a while, they started sharing school stories. Eggsy hadn't exactly been a model student, but Harry, it seemed, struggled to talk about his school days without coming across as an absolute tart. 

“Oh yes, changing rooms, showers, classrooms, behind the gym… Pretty much anywhere outside the dorms because the dorms were the only place they really kept a close eye on that sort of thing.” Harry shrugged and blushed, but only slightly. He relaxed back in his chair and watched Eggsy carefully, gauging his reaction.

“What, so you really were one of those posh toffs buggering your brains out at boarding school?” Eggsy asked in utter disbelief that the classic stereotype actually existed, and was here with him, right now. 

Harry pulled off a nonchalant nod. “You have to remember, we didn’t have internet, barely had dirty magazines. What else was a horde of hormonal teenage boys trapped together for months on end in the bowels of the countryside going to get up to?” 

Any response Eggsy may have had was interrupted by the arrival of the fourth course, and the associated trying and tasting of its culinary wonders.

“So go on then, Harry,” Eggsy asked through a mouthful of soft shell crab tempura, “how did you lose it?”

“Hmmn?” Harry was chewing on calamari, but Eggsy got his question. 

“Your virginity. When, where, who. C’mon. Spill.” In an entirely unsubtle move to lubricate the conversation a bit more, Eggsy topped up Harry’s wine. 

Harry coughed slightly as he swallowed too quickly. He should have known Eggsy wasn’t going to hold back once given an opening.  “I’m sorry, I hadn’t realised it was tomorrow already,” he chided mildly, trying to buy himself some time.

“Nah, mate. I’m catching up.” Eggsy grinned widely at him. “Three questions a day, we’ve been here eleven days. I reckon I’m owed a good thirty questions, y’get me?”

Harry’s lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “And I the same, then?” It might be worth it to be able to satisfy some of his own curiosities.

“Yeah, o’course.” Eggsy nodded, and took a deep sip of his wine. For a bit of Dutch courage? Actually, good idea. Harry mirrored him. 

“And your first question now is ‘how did I lose my virginity?” he asked, just to be sure. Eggsy nodded, he’d just had a forkful of the calamari. Harry took a deep breath and steadied himself for a long story. “I… had sex.” He picked up his knife and fork again, story over - and winked. 

“Oh c’mon!” Eggsy spluttered through his food. “You’ve gotta play fair!”

Harry held up his hands. “Fine, fine. Alright.” He chewed at his lip, working out where to start.  “I was fourteen, in the lower fifth; he was seventeen, in the lower sixth, sports captain and stunningly beautiful - blonde hair and compact and muscular - and I was in utter awe that he’d even noticed me, let alone spoken to me and asked me to help him sort out the chaos from sports day. So. We were in the gym, in one of the big storage cupboards that they kept the gymnastics equipment in - the vaulting horse and the parallel bars and all those kinds of things that schools have but never use. I was sat on the floor, sorting a pile of tangled bibs back into their colours and he came and stood over me, right over me with one foot on each side of me, and asked me if I’d ever kissed anyone. And of course, I had no words so I just shook my head like the mute moron that I was. And then he knelt down on top of me and kissed me. And… I kissed back. And he pushed me down onto my back on the floor and ground his arse into my cock and asked me if I wanted him.”

“And you said ‘nah, y’alright, mate’,” Eggsy grinned and Harry ducked his head for a moment, blushing.

“I honestly don’t remember what I said, but he had me out of my gym shorts and greased up with god-knows-what and when he lowered himself onto me he was staring right into my eyes and… it was possibly the closest thing I’ve ever had to a religious experience.” Harry took another sip of wine. “I came embarrassingly early and tried to pretend I hadn’t and he stayed there on top of me and put my hands on his cock and I wanked him off until he came all over my rugby shirt. Three weeks later he’d left the school to go to Switzerland - but for a while I was incredibly devoted to the tidiness of that cupboard.”

“Fuckenell, Harry…” Eggsy was agape, staring at him. 

Harry dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, not entirely sure if Eggsy’s reaction was good or bad. “Yes, So.. that was that. Hardly the romance of the year.”

Eggsy finished off his wine. “Well, yours is a hell of a lot more romantic than mine, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

“Oh?” Harry very carefully  _ didn’t _ ask. He wasn’t going to waste his questions if he could… aha, Eggsy took the bait. 

“Well, firstly I was seventeen, which for the area I grew up in, meant I was pretty much stale goods. Me and this omega girl had been friends since primary school and when we were fifteen she talked me into promising to wait until her first heat because she’d read that sharing the first time together made it like, crazy-amazing and spiritual and we’d have this incredible super-strong bond or whatever. I dunno, it was all teen-magazine bullshit but I was young and hadn’t really felt anything for anyone and she was smart and funny and we got on really well and I figured that bonding with her wouldn’t be the end of the world; like, we’d probably do okay together.”

Harry refilled the glasses with a skeptical look on his face, but remained diplomatically silent. 

“Yeah, exactly mate. I know.” Eggsy read his expression. “But anyway, I promised and like, we waited. And waited and waited… late-bloomer, y’see. And the whole time, we’d kiss and hug but she’d never let me get into her clothes because we had to  _ wait _ to make it  _ special _ .” He rolled his eyes. “And she finally cracked like, just after our end of year exams - probably the stress. So like, we got all nested up in the loft room of her house, got all the duvets and blankets in, fairy lights, strawberries, sexy playlist, the whole works.”

“You romantic thing,” Harry smiled. Eggsy dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 

“So like, the whole time she was heating up, we were waiting for like.. The  _ pull _ , y’know? The big scent-attraction, fuck-me-I’ve-gotta-have-you-now thing that everyone goes on about. And like, she was getting sexy as hell, but like, nothing deeper? No big spiritual connection or anything. But whatever, neither of us knew what to really expect, so we carried on and she made us wait until the cramps started so I was sat up there in the left of her parents’ house, hard as a fucking rock but not allowed to do anything about it for like six hours until she decided it was ‘time’.” 

Harry winced sympathetically at that. 

“Yeah, so now it’s the big event, and she’s got it all planned out, we’ve gotta do this amount of kissing and that amount of massage and then this long on oral and that long on touching and like, I swear she’d memorised it all like a fucking recipe. I was just desperately trying to do what I was told to keep her happy. And still - even with her naked and my face covered in heatjuice - no massive tidal wave of attraction, other than really  _ really _ wanting to shag her. But yeah, here we go. I get inside her, and yeah, pretty epic to finally be there and it’s pretty good and I’m thinking that yeah, maybe this was all worth it. But she’s bitching at me to knot her, I’ve gotta knot her to make the connection happen. But like, it’s our first time, neither of us really knows what we’re doing, we’re both a bit tense… It was kinda awkward - to say the least - but then I get it in and I’m swelling up and I can feel her coming and for a moment I was like ‘yesss, success!’.”

“For a moment?” 

“Yeah, because like, once she’d come she kinda realised that there was no magic attraction bond, there was no bit spiritual connection. It was just me and her shagging in a pile of blankets in her parents’ attic. Which like, was fucking amazing as far as I was concerned, but she was expecting so much more from it all. And she started to cry. I mean, just at the moment I’m spluffing my balls empty into her, she bursts into tears - which is not great for a bloke’s confidence, y’know? And I’m like, trying to hug her and kiss her and find out what the fuck is wrong, but we’re still knotted together and she’s crying and telling me to bite her, I have to bite her to make the ‘connection’ happen, and I’m all like ‘I’m not gonna bite you when you’re fucking crying, babe’, which just made her cry  _ more _ . So like, there we are, tied together all covered in spunk with her sniffling and me like, I don’t even know, mate. Dazed.” 

Harry was trying valiantly not to laugh, with rapidly diminishing success. 

“And yeah. That was my first time. Obviously she dumped me pretty much immediately, which would have been fine if she hadn’t spent the previous two years telling every-fucking-one how we were saving it for her heat, and then like… She’d had her heat and booted me, so everyone fucking  _ knew _ that I couldn’t like, please an omega in heat.” Eggsy buried his face in his hands. “Christ, Dean got  _ years _ out of that one…”

“Oof,” Harry murmured, “that must have been phenomenally difficult.”

Eggsy gave a half shrug. “He’d have just used something else if that hadn’t cropped up.”

Harry almost found himself growling. Anything that made him think of how Dean had mistreated Eggsy made his hackles rise. “But you must have rescued your reputation somehow?” he asked.

Eggsy grinned. “Oh yeah, found an omega with a big mouth and shagged him senseless through his heat - he soon spread the word.” He stuck a fork into his white chocolate torte and slowly savoured the sweetness. “Fuck yes, this is heaven. Try some.” He scooped up another forkful and held it out to Harry, who couldn't help himself making a little bit of a show of wrapping his lips around it and slowly drawing the mousse off the tines, flicking his tongue out at the end. "L-lovely, eh?" Eggsy asked, going a little pink across the cheekbones.

“Beautiful,” Harry agreed, looking right into Eggsy’s eyes. He wasn’t talking about the dessert.

 

* * *

The next day, they played mini-golf. Eggsy had once spent a summer ‘working’ at a mini golf course - which mostly consisted of handing out putters and balls and hot-housing inside the fibreglass windmill - so he had expected to waltz through the game with his eyes closed, but Harry was infuriatingly good at it. 

“Aim for the Sphinx's tail, bounce it off the south wall of the pyramid and you’ll get it around the top of the Nile there,” he called as Eggsy took his eighth shot on a 5-par hole. 

“I’ll bounce you off the south wall of the bloody pyramid!” he yelled back, whacking the ball a fair bit harder than intended. It smacked a plaster Statue of Liberty from the seventh hole in the back of the head and rebounded with spectacular accuracy back to the Sphinx. “Oh yes! Skilllls!” Eggsy crowed, as if the freak lucky shot had been his intent all along. He putted the ball neatly with his next shot and jogged back across Egypt to join Harry in Italy, where he was examining the angles between the colosseum and the leaning tower of Pisa. 

“Five pounds says I can do it with a hole in one,” he raised an eyebrow at Eggsy, offering his hand to shake on the bet. 

“You’re on, mate.” Eggsy shook and stood back to let the master work. Harry placed his ball, took up his stance and squared his shoulders, looking back and forth between the ball and the ring of tiny arches that made up the colosseum. He lifted his putter, and swung. 

The ball flew across the ‘green’, grazed its side along the edge of a gondolier and bounced crazily towards the rocky outcrop supporting the Parthenon. “Ooh, bad luck mate!” Eggsy called. “I’ll have my fiver as a double vodka and coke this evening, ta.” 

“Not so fast…” Harry held up his hand and pointed at the ball which was now spinning back down the rocks and heading straight for the colosseum. 

“No fucking way…” Eggsy sidestepped round to watch the ball enter neatly through one of the arches, roll perfectly straight through and exit leisurely out the other side on a direct course for the hole. It skimmed the edge and almost carried on past but just circled the rim before dropping neatly inside. “You fucking jammy bastard!” Eggsy dropped his putter in disbelief. “Unbelievable!”

“I’ll have my five pounds as a Hennessey on the rocks, thank you.” Harry grinned at him.

“Only if you show me how you fucking did that!” Eggsy retrieved his putter and marched over to the tee - then almost jumped out of his skin when Harry stood behind him and wrapped his long arms around him to adjust his hold on the grip. 

“Like a lot of things, it’s all in the wrist,” he murmured into Eggsy’s ear. “We’re going to aim for the top of the gondolier’s punt but we’ve got to add a bit of lift by putting a little scoop into the swing.” Eggsy froze, turned to stone by the exquisite dual perfectness of Harry Hart holding him like  _ this _ , and talking to him like  _ that _ . “Just relax, just relax,” Harry coaxed him, rocking them both side to side until Eggsy loosened up his joints enough to let Harry manipulate him like a puppet. “That’s a good boy… and lift and…  _ swing _ !” 

They hit the ball and it followed virtually the same path as Harry’s, though without quite enough acceleration so that it inched to a stop about a foot from the hole. “Hmmn, bit more oomph, next time, eh?” Harry patted Eggsy on the shoulder as he stepped away, leaving Eggsy’s back suddenly chilled and his face burning red. Once again, he was saved from having to find something to say by an apologetic member of staff coming to regretfully inform them that they were clearing the course for a private party. 

There was no way Eggsy would have been able to hit the ball straight anyway.

 

* * *

Their room was stiflingly hot, so Eggsy threw open the patio-door to the balcony to try to get some air through. There was something about the ship’s air conditioning; the recycled air made the scents of everyone aboard mingle and it seemed that lately, wherever he went there was a hint of somebody who smelled fucking _amazing_.

 

* * *

 


	4. The Alphega Scandal: thirty five years on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting, fucking and freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this one took forever! I'm sorry about that. 
> 
> Another explicit chapter. 
> 
> I know the articles at the beginning are a bit dry, but they're useful for the worldbuilding, so skim it through, at least.

_ The Alphega Scandal: thirty five years on _

_ December the second this year marked the thirty-fifth anniversary of the evacuation of Alphega, which provided the spark for the long-overdue explosion of gramma-rights campaigning in the UK. A generation has grown up in a world where grammas are protected from mistreatment by law - but have things really changed, or is the new Integrated Britain just all talk? _

_ I remember exactly where I was when the news broke. I was seventeen and in the car with my parents when the BBC news on the radio broadcast the now-iconic audio clip of fifteen year old Daphne Hinds’ 999 call, begging the police to find her baby and saying she’d ‘escaped’ from Alphega. My father called her an ‘omega slut’ and said she’d probably swapped the baby for sex, then turned off the radio. I can still remember my mother’s brittle silence - not disagreeing with my father, but - unusually for her - not nodding along with his opinions either.  _

_ It’s a shocking fact that there isn’t a single society in history that hasn’t abused or segregated alpha and omega people. From relatively benign acts such as providing separate living and/or working spaces, to outright slavery, violence, forced prostitution and pregnancy,and even - more recently - blood and organ harvesting. Every manner of human vs human mistreatment has been carried out against grammas over the centuries. So it’s hardly surprising when these downtrodden people band together for support and protection.  _

_ Alphega was meant to be such a sanctuary. A huge complex set in extensive grounds, the Victorians built it to be virtually self-sufficient, and to be a place of refuge for alphas and omegas forced from their homes. It was meant to be a stepping-stone, where displaced grammas could enter with nothing and leave a year or so later with new skills and references to make their way in the world again. It ended up as a dumping ground. A death camp on British soil.  _

_ When the police raided Alphega in search of Daphne’s baby, they first went to the so-called maternity wing, where row after row of pregnant or recently port-partum omegas were crammed into large dormitories. The only babies found were those under six weeks old. All the other children had been taken away; adopted out to beta families  for large fees. In the filthy yard, scores of minibuses were parked. These transported grammas - mostly omegas - to illegal sweatshops, brothels and sex shows up and down the country. When an omega got pregnant, they would be dumped back in Alphega until ‘ready to work’ again.  _

_ Alphas didn’t escape the sexual abuse; they were primed with omega scent and drugs to force them into rut and made to ‘perform’ for paying audiences. But mostly alphas worked the farms, fields and factories, churning out products for a pitiful wage. Seasonal gangs of fruit pickers and vegetable packers would be sent out from Alphega to farms all over the UK, only to return to being stacked into triple bunk beds in barracks when the harvest was over. _

_ Along one end of the grounds, a picturesque ‘street’ of houses had been built for the handful of families that had been originally expected to live at the sanctuary, and it was along here that the governors ran private tours of visitors through Alphega to show them gramma society. That these houses were populated solely with omegas in heat and alphas in rut for the amusement and titillation of the tourists only served to increase demand for spaces on the tours.  _

_ Alphega wasn’t the only place of systematic gramma-abuse - not by any means - but it was perhaps the largest-scale in the UK, and reached some terrible depths of mistreatment. Once the story came out, dozens of similar ‘sanctuaries’ were similarly exposed, along with hundreds of brothels holding grammas in forced prostitution. This cascade of revelation after revelation sent the whole country into turmoil but it still took five long years for all alpha and omega people to be granted absolute equal rights with allos in the UK. The Conservative government of the time trumpeted about inclusion, integration, alliance and unity, for a New United Kingdom.  _

_ So how did we do? Well, the changes in the laws banned residential and commercial areas from being earmarked for allo or gramma exclusive use, and landlord and homeowners were banned from discriminating on the grounds of dynamic. However, virtually all major cities will still have a ‘gramma quarter’, where the alpha and omega population is at its most dense, which are still colloquially known as the gramma ghettos.  All mainstream schools now have to be integrated, allowing allo and gramma children to be co-educated and therefore promoting understanding and tolerance amongst the younger generation - though the laws do not apply to private or church schools, so prejudiced parents can still easily keep their children segregated if they choose.   _

_ The most stark failures of the New Integrated Britain though, are illustrated in pure statistics. Grammas are four times more likely to be homeless, six times more likely to be sex workers, three times more likely to be addicted to class-A substances, four times more likely to be infected with blood-borne diseases, twelve times more likely to be the victims of violent attacks… It’s a depressing list.  _

_ Progress has been made, though. Nationwide surveys suggest that nearly three-quarters of gramma people are now completely open about their dynamic, and two thirds of parents of children aged 10 - 15 say that they would be unconcerned if their child presented as gramma. Perhaps most tellingly, has been the increase in visibility of cross- and counter-dynamic couples. (A cross-dynamic couple would be one allo and one gramma: alpha-beta or omega-beta. A counter-dynamic couple has two matching gramma dynamics: alpha-alpha or omega-omega). In a world where being gramma is increasingly nothing to be ashamed of, these rarer and more taboo couples are also beginning to come out of the closet and stand up for their right to live in peace.  _

_ A slippery slope to degeneracy? Or a sign that acceptance and tolerance is spreading? Only time will tell.  _

* * *

 

Eggsy woke from a feverishly confusing dream where he was an alpha in heat looking for an omega in rut for a mate in a packed nightclub - which then tumbled into an incoherent mess of limbs and panting and sweat and sex in the way that those kinds of dreams do. He rubbed blearily at his eyes, and tried to work up some moisture in his mouth. From behind the curtain separating the sofa and balcony half of their ‘suite’ from the bed and bathroom half he could hear Harry moving about, getting dressed. He blinked in the light streaming through the blinds over the balcony doors and rolled over onto his stomach.

“Mornin’, Harry,” he called through the curtain in a hoarse croak. “Is it late?”

 A thud as something hit the carpet beyond the curtain. “No, no. It’s not quite ten yet,” Harry replied, sounding even stiffer and more formal than usual. 

 “You alright, mate?” Eggsy asked, reaching to scratch at his shoulderblade. His wrist clicked and he grunted at the weird satisfaction. He stretched, flexing his spine and rotating his ankles, causing a few more pops and clicks. His duvet was mostly on the floor - he must have kicked it off last night; these rooms were so warm. “Fuck, my mouth feels like a wombat shat in it.” 

 “I’m fine.” Harry’s voice echoed slightly from the bathroom. “Are you, um… well rested?”

 Eggsy frowned at the odd question. “Yeah? Well apart from being in desperate need of a shower.” He paused, thinking to leave it at that but it was too weird to leave alone. “What makes you ask?”

 Harry pulled back the curtain just enough to peer through at him. “You were uh, talking in your sleep.”

 Eggsy flushed, the nature of his dream coming back to him in graphic, visceral flashes. That, and the fact that he was still semi-hard from it. “Oh. Sorry, did I wake you?” 

 “I, um... I glanced in on you because I thought you were having a nightmare,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his phone. “Sorry.”

 For a moment Eggsy wondered what the problem was, and then icy realisation crashed over him. “Oh. _Oh._ Fuck, I’m sorry, Harry.” He reached for the duvet and hauled it up over himself, squirming to sit cross-legged with it draped over him from the neck down. His face burned with embarrassment. “Shit, did I say anything really fucking stupid?”

 “No,” Harry picked up his jacket and seemed to relax a little now that Eggsy had more on him than just the thin cotton of his pyjama bottoms. “Just muttering and moaning a bit.” He pulled back the curtain between them properly, then fetched a bottle of water from the dressing table and tossed it over to Eggsy, who utterly failed to catch it one-handed and had to chase it before it bounced off the mattress. 

 He gulped down nearly half the bottle in one draught. “Okay, well…” he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, “that’s something, at least.”

 Harry sat down on the edge of his bed and crossed his legs, draping his jacket over his lap. “Agents often suffer with night terrors.” He took off his glasses and swapped out the tiny battery in the arm for a freshly charged one, turning and tilting his face to the side to hide his missing eye. “I have them myself, from time to time. I thought maybe you needed to be woken up.” 

 “Yeah,” Eggsy agreed, sipping more water. “I do get ‘em occasionally. Sometimes JB wakes me up by licking my face if they’re really bad.”

 Harry put his glasses back on and lifted his head. “But, uh, you were fine so I just went and had a shower.” He smiled reassuringly and attached a tiny pin microphone to the collar of his shirt. Eggsy stared down at the water bottle he was holding with both hands in his lap. The awkwardness between them filled the room like thick fog. So Harry had seen his hard on when he’d been asleep? It was a normal thing. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

 He took a deep breath. “Harry, uh… About, like… you looking in on my when I was dreaming…”

 Harry’s shoulders stiffened. “I really am terribly sorry,” he mumbled.

 “No, no, mate, You don’t have to be sorry.” Eggsy cut him off. “You were looking out for me. Thank you. I appreciate it, and _I’m_ sorry that I made things weird for you, yeah?”

 “It’s fine,” Harry muttered, picking specks of lint from his jacket sleeve. 

 “Yeah, well you’re a gent. But what I wanted to say is that like, that’s not a common thing for me. I mean like, if I sound distressed in my sleep, please do check because it’s far more likely to be a nightmare than… um, anything else.” Eggsy blushed again. “I think it might be something to do with all the people packed in on this ship? All those scents from everyone coming through the vents. I’m, uh, pretty scent-oriented. Like even compared with other grammas. And there’s someone on this ship who smells really fucking good to me and I guess… my brain responded? Sorry, it must sound really fucking weird.” The bottle in his hands crackled as he squeezed too hard. “It’s a gramma thing. It’s probably a bit gross. Sorry.”

 Harry shook his head with a half-smile. “It’s not ‘weird’ or ‘gross’. I understand. I just… thought that you might have felt intruded upon - and that wasn’t my intention at all.”

 “Nah, no worries, mate.” Eggsy leaned back on his hands and stretched out his legs, wiggling his toes as they peeked out from under the duvet. “I really wanna know who it is that I keep catching scent of, though. Gonna have to do some proper mingling, see if I can sniff him out.”

 “Him, eh?” Harry asked. “Well that narrows it down to half the ship, at least.”

 “Mmmn, yeah, I think so.” Eggsy shrugged. “I dunno. It’s weird, I just keep getting hints of it, but it’s all confused. One minute there’s just regular background of lots of people, and then a sudden hit of… _something_. My first thought was just really clean, fresh alpha, but it can’t be because it’s driving me fucking crazy,and it’s not like, _alpha_ -alpha - so he’s probably omega. But I’ve never smelled an omega like this before.”

 “Maybe your true mate is on the ship,” Harry teased.

 Eggsy laughed. “Nah, fuck off. My mum believes in gramma soulmates. I think it’s all a load of wank.”

 “Really? I’m sure I read somewhere about biochemical compatibility with gramma couples.” Harry remarked. “I wouldn’t go as far as ‘soulmates’, but there’s a strong argument for some kind of pheromone-assisted attraction, isn’t there?”

 “Eh, maybe. I dunno. I never smelled anyone that made my heart skip a beat.” Eggsy rolled  over to grab his phone, unplugging it from its charger. “All the omegas I’ve met have been alright, y’know, _nice_ ; but I never got a _pull_ that made me wanna put up with anyone's day to day bullshit.” 

 “Until now, maybe?” Harry grinned at him.

 “Pfft. Well, you never know. They say strange things happen at sea!” Eggsy finished the bottle of water,  threw it across the room at the waste paper bin, and missed. “Balls,” he swore. “What’s today, Harry?”

 “We’re heading out to sea today, so there are big parties planned all over the ship for the first night of being in international waters. Merlin wants us out in the crowd, obviously. There’s that surgeon from Portugal he wants us to keep an eye on, who I have a feeling will be hitting the casino, so I was going to head that way. Do you want to generally observe or pick one of the other people of interest?”

 Eggsy yawned. “Eh, I’ll mosey about after those guys from Yemen unless I see something interesting to follow up, yeah? They were raising all sorts of flags with me when I was watching them the other day.”

 Harry nodded thoughtfully.“Yes, I know what you mean. It’s odd, I’m sure that Merlin’s digging about them only showed that they were into health clubs. Spas and fitness retreats and that sort of thing.”

 “Eh, there are crooks everywhere.” Eggsy shrugged. “Right. I’m gonna shower, have you had breakfast? I’m fucking starving.”

 “I haven’t. Shall we have American pancakes or a proper full English?” Harry stood, shrugging into his jacket.

“You buying me breakfast, Harry?” Eggsy raised his eyebrows, smirking.

 “I’ll see you in the pub, then.”

* * *

 

“Oh god, I am so fucking full.” Eggsy pushed his plate away, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the waistband of his trousers.  

“I’m not surprised.” Harry dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

“Shouldn’t have ordered those onion rings on the side…” Eggsy burped. “‘Scuse me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was the onion rings. Not the four sausages, four rashers of bacon, double black pudding, double fried eggs, mushrooms, beans, hashbrowns and toast. The onion rings.” 

“Most important meal of the day, Harry,” Eggsy grinned. He leaned forward. “Right. Important stuff now.”

“Oh?” Harry mirrored him, shifting closer for privacy. Had Eggsy noticed something for the mission while they’d been eating?

“You once told me you’d never been in love. Was that true?”

Harry blinked, taken aback. That had not been what he was expecting at all. “Oh. One of your daily questions?”

Eggsy nodded. “Yup. That means you have to answer.”

Harry considered. “I’ve thought I was in love. Once or twice. But in hindsight, I think it was just lust or deep affection. So, yes, I consider what I said to be true.”

Eggsy clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Who were the one or two?” 

“Oh, really? I thought we agreed there’d be no kiss and tell stories,” Harry protested. 

“You don’t have to give me their bloody date of birth and national insurance number! Just give me the gist. Where you met, what were they like, what happened...?”

“That’s a lot of questions.” Harry grumbled. 

“No, it’s one question, I was just explaining how to answer it.” Eggsy stuck his tongue out. “Anyway, you’ve got a fuckton of stuff out of me with just a couple of questions. Fair’s fair.”

“Fine, fine.” Harry closed his eyes. “The first was at university. He was across the corridor from me in college halls. He was reading physics. Astrophysics.”

 “Blimey.”

 Harry smiled. “Yes, exactly. He was… tall. Taller than me - with dark hair and dark eyes and a beautiful shyness. We would sit up until the early hours, talking about politics and philosophy and how we were going to change the world. It was all very… hesitant, and sweet. He acted so normal out in public: big and powerful and keeping people at a distance. And then, when it was just the two of us, he’d sort of shrink down to this delicate, fragile, sensitive bared-soul - like an ornament made out of blown glass - and open up about his worries and hopes and wants and frustrations and I just felt… so very privileged that he’d chosen me to get close to him.”

 “That sounds lovely,” Eggsy murmured.

 “Yes,” Harry agreed. “It was very lovely. And, the second - he was a little later, after the Army, before Kingsman. That was much more… passionate. He was tall and dark too, but lanky, where David had been solid. There was a language barrier, so we didn’t have anywhere near the deep understanding of David and I, but we made up for it with the… physical relationship.” His eyes sparkled and Eggsy chuckled. 

 “A damn good lay, then?”

 “Oh absolutely.” Harry flashed a filthy grin, and then looked demurely down at his empty plate. “Which was definitely fun. But love is built on more than sex.”

 “Yeah, I agree with you there.” Eggsy nodded. There was a companionable pause. “Alright then. So. Third question: what’s your ‘type’?”

 “My type?” Harry was suddenly very still.

 “Yeah, who do you go for? The imaginary partner of your dreams. Like, if I was gonna be your wingman, I need to know what you’re looking for.”

 Harry wiped his hands on his trousers. “Hold on, I haven’t had the chance to ask anything yet. You owe me two answers first.”

 Eggsy shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Hit me with ‘em.”

 Harry thought for a moment, then asked slowly, “What was it like growing up in the gramma quarter?”

 Eggsy blinked, clearly not expecting that line of questioning. He rubbed at his nose. “Eh, I dunno, I never lived anywhere else to compare it until you turned up.” He bit his lip and cocked his head, considering. “Um… now that I’ve seen a bit more of the world, I kinda realise how poor we were. Like, I never realised it at the time because mum always made sure we were dressed and fed and the rent was paid, and everyone else I knew had just the same problems that we did, but I mean… it was pretty normal for us to buy a twenty kilo sack of potatoes from the market on payday and we’d live off those for the rest of the month. Mum is a genius with a potato, you should try her onion and corned beef hash, it’s amazing.”

 Harry smiled softly. “I’d like that very much.”

 “I guess I’m lucky that I turned out alpha and happened to already be in a really high-gramma estate. It made it really normal. No one batted an eyelid when I presented. Well, Dean was a bit put out but I was so used to him being a bastard by then that it didn’t feel like much had changed. Mum’s really into the Pride stuff; she was on the committee that organises the parades and marches and whatever. She always told me that even though her and my dad were beta, they’d both decided they belonged more with the grammas than the allos.”

 “Were your maternal grandparents gramma as well as your father’s parents?” Harry asked. “I remember Lee talking about his parents when he was a recruit. Chester was appalled that I’d forwarded someone of ‘his background’, even though he was beta. Apparently having gramma parents was enough for the bigoted arse to want to discount him offhand, regardless of his merit.”

 “Yeah, four gramma grandparents, two allo parents. I totally hope Daisy presents as gramma when she grows up, just so’s I can tease my mum that she’s the weird generation.” Eggsy softened when he thought about his sister and Harry felt his affection for him growing even more. Eggsy topped up his water from the jug on the table. “But yeah, my estate was tough at times, but I dunno how much of that is because of how many grammas there are or just because it’s a shitload of people who are already struggling shoved together, y’know?”

 Harry nodded.

 Eggsy carried on, sliding slightly into his Raising Awareness role. “But like, I never had any issues in terms of being alpha. All the beta kids at school are from gramma families, so they’re not bothered. We all mingled pretty well. It was harder in the Marines, when I met people who had barely spoken to anyone who wasn’t allo before. They had so many completely bizarre misconceptions about us. That’s kinda when I decided I was always gonna be open and forward about myself and try to share as much about gramma stuff as people are interested in hearing - so that all the misinformation can be corrected a bit.”

 “The main thing that surprises them is that we all go out with each other when we’re in school. Like, that thirteen to sixteen, post-presentation but pre-heat or rut awkward age? Even though we’re all aware of dynamics and relationship roles, none of it really applies at that age; if someone says they want to be your girlfriend at that age, you don’t turn them down because of dynamic. It changes a bit when you get older, I guess the hormones and pheromones kick in properly then, but even so, there are loads of cross-dynamic couples on the estate. It’s pretty normal.”

 “That does surprise me,” Harry admitted. “I was always given the impression that going against dynamic role was taboo. I know a beta-omega couple and they’ve struggled immensely with hate and discrimination from the people around them.”

 “Eh, yes and no.” Eggsy rocked his hand like a see-saw. “Cross-dynamic - allos and grammas, we call them ‘crooked’ on the estate - that’s kinda odd but tolerated because like, there are so many more allos than grammas; sometimes you’ve just gotta take what you can get, right? So there might be a few people gossiping and twitching net curtains, but mostly people will let ta crooked couple get on with it. On the estate, I mean, I dunno about elsewhere. Usually someone will have a book on how long it’ll take the gramma to cheat.” He rolled his eyes, curling his lip in distaste. “I think that allos freak out more when they see cross-couples because it’s like: a beta has been corrupted! Gasp!” He put his hands to his cheeks in horror. 

 “But then counter-dynamic - alpha-alpha or omega-omega, they’re called ‘twisted’  - that’s different. That’s like… going totally _against_ nature. It’s tolerated a bit when you’re kids because everyone’s just experimenting, but you’re expected to grow out of it pretty sharpish. Suggesting someone’s a twist is a quick way to earn a fist in the face if you’re in the wrong pub, y’know? It’s not how things _work._ So then the grammas get all uncomfortable about twisted couples because their scent profile gets all screwed up and no one can quite believe that they don’t wanna be with their opposite dynamic and some people seem to take it as a personal affront or something? Like they get all riled up about it, even though fuck-knows what it’s got to do with them. From what I’ve heard, allos generally aren’t as bothered about twists because grammas go with grammas, right? It doesn’t matter about the _details_.” He sighed. “So crooks get shat on by allos and twists get shat on by grammas. I dunno. It’s all so fucking stupid.”

 Harry was quiet for a while, toying with his paper napkin. 

 “What’s your next question, Harry?” Eggsy prompted.

 “Oh.. um…” Harry thought. “Well, following on from what you were just saying, what are _your_ views on crosses and counters?”

 Eggsy snorted. “Oh I’m easy, me. I don’t mind at all. I’ve had a few crooked relationships myself, so obviously that’s not an issue; maybe I’d be more wary if I grew up in an allo place. It’s trickier being a twist in a gramma-heavy place, so they’re much less visible and cop a lot more flak for it but personally I don’t see why..” He tilted his head and leaned forward conspiratorially. “If I’m totally honest, the handful of twist couples that I know? They’re dead cute. I mean, just the whole ‘love-against-all-odds’ thing - it’s totally romantic, y’get me? It looks so much more _real_ than any basic normal dynamic relationship. You know they fought to be together - it’s fucking lovely.”

 Harry smiled down at his hands. “I think I get you. So... would you consider a, um, twist relationship?”

 Eggsy shrugged. “If I met the right alpha, maybe. None of them have interested me yet, though. The one or two alphas I might have given it a go with when I was at school were definitely _not_ the kind of people who would have taken kindly to the suggestion, so it never happened.” He grinned broadly clapped his hands together. “Alright! So, that’s three for you and still just two for me. So now you’ve gotta answer my last question!”

 “Oh christ, what was it again?” Harry massaged the bridge of his nose. 

 “What’s your ‘type’?” Eggsy reminded him.

 “Urgh. Yes.” Harry tapped at the table. _Honesty._ “Well… to start with, I like men. You probably guessed. Women are lovely, but they just don’t press any sexual buttons for me. Though several have had a damn good go at changing my mind about that.”

 Eggsy nodded. “I kinda figured, but didn’t want to assume, y’know?”

 Harry hesitated. “And then… well… the men that I’ve been most strongly attracted to…” He folded and refolded his napkin. “Strong. Capable. Caring. _Protective_. Someone who I know would drop everything to be there for me if I was in crisis. An intellectual equal, so we could talk for hours on end about anything and nothing. Someone with a similar sense of humour. Someone to tone down my anxieties and highlight my strengths. Someone I can relax with, and just… be _myself_ with.” He trailed to a stop, embarrassed. 

 Eggsy whistled. “Right. Well… I’ll keep an eye out for Prince Charming, eh?”

 “I know, it’s a tall order, isn’t it?” Harry shrugged. “This is why I find myself in my fifties and still single.”

 “Eh, I’d say the job has quite a bit more to do with that.” Eggsy chuckled reassuringly. “Actually Harry, you do put me in mind of a couple of people…” He cocked his head thoughtfully. “Maybe when we get home--”

 “Oh dear, you’re not going to set me up with someone, are you?” Harry groaned. “I’ve had quite enough of that from my mother, thank you.”

 “I’d have said ‘introduce’, rather than ‘set up’...” Eggsy grinned. “And you should give ‘em a chance, they’re top blokes. Though... both of them are alpha - is that okay?”

 Harry blushed deeply. “Uh… Yes. That’s okay. Very okay.” He still couldn’t quite bring himself to say what he wanted to.

 Eggsy stared at him. “Harry.” His eyes widened and he broke into a gleeful smile. “Harry. You’re into alphas, aren’t you?”

 Harry squirmed in his seat, trying to avoid eye contact. _Caught_. “Possibly. Maybe…. Yes.” He screwed his eyes shut and hid his face in his hands. 

 Eggsy laughed out loud. “For fuck’s sake, Harry - why didn’t you just say? I already told you I don’t give a shit.” He reached out and pulled Harry’s hand down from his face, interlocking their fingers. “Don’t worry about it. I ain’t gonna tell anyone. Relax.You’re acting like it’s some terrible massive secret. It’s fine.”

 Harry took a deep breath. This was it. “Eggsy, I--”

 “Sorry gents, we’re clearing the restaurant so we can set up for lunch,” a waitress told them apologetically.

 “Oh, sorry, yeah, we’ve gotta get going anyway, yeah Harry?” Eggsy jumped up and gathered his hoodie. 

 “Yes. I suppose so,” Harry muttered, and picked up his jacket. _Fuck_.

* * *

 

 

That evening, Harry helped Eggsy find hiding places for a few bugs and cameras in his party outfit of a closely-fitted deep orange button down shirt and nearly skintight black jeans. Eggsy was rapidly realisting that part of the reason Kingsman agents wore suits was that there were so many places to put or hide stuff. Without a jacket and tie, the job was considerably harder. 

“I think that’ll do,” Harry tweaked his collar one more time. “The mic should pick up fine from under there but it shouldn’t really be seen. Just try not to play with your collar too much so you don’t disturb it.”

“Cheers Harry,” Eggsy checked himself in the mirror. The glasses didn’t really enhance the look much, but that couldn’t be helped. Harry, of course, was immaculate in a three piece suit, and looking spectacularly good, as always. “Okay, unless something kicks off, meet you back here at like, half midnight to compare notes?”

“Sounds good.” Harry agreed. “And Eggsy… Do try to stay sober, would you?”

“Harry! I am a _professional,_ and I’m _working_. I’ll barely touch a drop.”

* * *

  
Eggsy emptied the last of the bottle into their glasses and dropped it into the little waste paper bin, which made it topple over. “Balls.” He considered picking it up but right now, that was far too complicated a process. He delegated the job to his future self and toasted his decision with a large sip of very good whisky. 

Beside him, Harry checked his phone and groaned. “How on earth did it get to be 2am?” 

“Havin’ a good time, innit?” Eggsy grinned and handed Harry his glass. “Happy Thursday!” They clinked glasses and drank. “Oh hey, that means I get new questions.”

“Eh?” Harry was definitely beyond tipsy now. 

“Three new questions, cos it’s tomorrow, right?” Eggsy crawled awkwardly up the bed, trying not to spill his drink, to sit cross legged with his back against the headboard.

“Fine, fine, fair enough,” Harry flopped onto his back and lifted his long legs up to rest halfway up the wall. “What’s it gonna be? An essay on ‘My Perfect Man’? List the Game of Thrones characters in order of sexual preference?” He giggled to himself. “Jaime Lannister,  _ sans _ hand; Theon, pre-Ramsay; Gendry at any time, anywhere, any way he liked it... Olyvar, up against a wall and--“

“You’ve given that one a fair amount of thought, eh, Harry?” Eggsy interrupted, taking Harry’s glass from him before he splashed it everywhere with his gesturing. 

Harry looked up at him. “I might have done.” He raised an eyebrow. “So what’s your question?”

Eggsy said nothing but reached forward to press and hold the power switch on Harry’s glasses, then switched off his own and set them, neatly folded, on the bedside table. Harry frowned slightly, but made no move to stop him as Eggsy shuffled off the bed and did a quick circuit of the room, powering down their phones and tablets, and the mics in their lapel pins, and the one in the cufflink box on the dressing table. He returned to the bed and sat on the other side from Harry, legs crossed, lips pressed together in anxious thought. Harry looked up at him from his back with a slightly concerned frown. 

 “Thing is Harry, I might be totally wrong, but I’ve been picking up a certain vibe from y’lately and it’s had me thinking about this for quite a while. So my question is, to put it bluntly,” he shut his eyes and pressed his lips together. “Do you want to fuck?” He licked his lips and inhaled, scenting. “Because it feels like we have a... a _thing_ happening. Doesn’t it? And mate, no pressure, but I would totally be up for that right now.”

 “Oh.” There were twin thuds as Harry dropped his legs back down off the wall  and shoved himself up to sitting “I… Well.” 

 “Shit…” Eggsy muttered, his gut twisting with embarrassment. He was wrong, fuck, he’d just made a massive mistake. He scrambled up onto his knees, hastily adding caveats and get-out clauses. “I mean like, I’m sorry if I’ve massively miscalculated, and like, genuinely no strings, no pressure either way, I just…”

 “Eggsy, shush.” Harry took a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to do anything. But now that you bring it up…” His eyes pierced Eggsy as firmly as a pin through a butterfly. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. I’ve--”

 The rest of his sentence was cut off by Eggsy bolting forward to kiss Harry so firmly that they almost slid off the edge of the bed. Harry grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him away for just long enough to reposition himself and pull Eggsy into straddling his lap. One hand wound into Eggsy’s hair to hold him close, the other roamed over his body, exploring the planes of his chest, his back, his thigh. Eggsy broke the kiss and pulled his T-shirt off, flexing a little, showing off because Harry was drinking him in, his gaze roaming over every inch of him, his breathing getting a little ragged. 

 “God, you’re so beautiful,” Harry croaked, his voice hoarse, reaching up to stroke his hands from Eggsy’s shoulders to belt, callused fingers trailing over smooth flesh. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and Eggsy shivered into it pressing himself against Harry’s hands. 

 He smirked.  “Right back atcha, with a cherry on top,” and began to unbutton Harry’s shirt, fingers a little clumsy with booze and anticipation. 

 He got halfway down before Harry wrapped him in a bearhug and rolled them both over, moving them further up the bed. “It’s been a long time since I had any kind of cherry, Eggsy.” Harry knelt astride one of Eggsy’s thighs and hauled his shirt off over his head without bothering with the rest of the buttons. It got tossed unceremoniously aside and landed limply halfway over the waste paper bin. 

 “Oh yeah?” Eggsy ran his tongue across his teeth, shamelessly eyeing up Harry’s body. “You ain’t had _me_ , though.” He pulled Harry down to kiss him, winding an arm around his neck and scratching his fingers up the length of Harry’s spine. He buried his face into the curve of Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply, completely unashamed to use his heightened senses. “Fuck me, you smell good. What the _fuck_ Harry?” His voice was almost accusing. Harry didn’t answer, too busy kissing at his jaw, neck, collarbones; slowly working his way down Eggsy’s body, exploring and savouring every piece of him. 

 “No no, come back up here,” Eggsy tugged Harry to lie half on top of, half next to him and kissed him slowly, luxuriously. “I want to enjoy you,” he murmured with his lips so close to Harry’s that they brushed against each other with his words. They kissed again, taking their time, Harry cupping Eggsy’ jaw in his hand and Eggsy trailing his fingers down Harry’s side, twining their legs together, pressing the hardness of his cock against Harry’s hip. Harry rumbled a moan into his mouth and shifted a little, shffling closer and _fuck yes_ , Eggsy could feel the solid heat of him pushing into his thigh. He sighed a little ‘oh’ of pleasure against Harry’s cheek and reached to palm at his cock through his trousers. 

 Harry pushed him onto his back and clambered on top of him, sitting on his stomach and then dropping forward to pin him to the mattress by the biceps. Eggsy squirmed beneath him, his body flaring hot at being trapped like this. Harry shifted his weight to move his hands either side of Eggsy’s shoulders and dipped to kiss him. Eggsy reached for Harry’s crotch again, tracing his fingers over the length of his cock and then Harry was moving, crawling on all fours down his body to kneel between his feet and reach up to unbutton his jeans. Eggsy lifted his hips and let Harry strip them off him, pants too, in one long pull. He lay on his back, naked and flushed, while Harry looked at him with heated awe.

 “You really are spectacular,” he said with a quiet smile, and Eggsy had never felt so attractive, so appreciated, so _wanted_. He’d never been looked at like that before, never been the one to be complimented and worshipped, always been the one giving that kind of attention. He felt exposed - but not vulnerable; it was more libertine, freely offering himself up in a way he never had before. “May I?” Harry tilted his head, glancing down to Eggsy’s hips and Eggsy only managed to nod permission, too taken aback by a partner actually _asking_ to find any words. He was far more used to being begged for his cock.

 Harry hummed appreciatively but didn’t go straight to his cock, instead crawling back up his body to kiss him, heated and desperate. He ran his fingers down Eggsy’s arms and took hold of his wrists, lifting them up over his head and then trapping them to the mattress while he kissed Eggsy bruisingly hard again. He pulled back a little, still holding Eggsy’s arms down. “Okay?” he asked, squeezing his hands a little on Eggsy’s wrists to show what he was asking about.

 Eggsy squirmed beneath him. They both knew he could get out of a hold like this if he wanted, but when he pulled against Harry’s grip and was held firm it coiled heat deep in his belly, and set every nerve in his cock singing. He nodded again. “Fuck yes, _so_ okay,” and then blushed at his eagerness. 

 Harry chuckled and kissed him again. “Here,” he pushed Eggsy arms further up the bed and guided his fingers between the mattress and headboard, “hold on here, yes?”

 “Yes,” Eggsy echoed, gripping the upholstery, feeling a rush of hedonism as his imagination immediately pictured him being tied like this. As if reading his mind, Harry flashed him a filthy grin, then nuzzled into the curve of his jaw, sucking with just a hint of teeth. He nipped down Eggsy’s neck, skimmed his tongue over the join of shoulder and neck and nipped again at Eggsy’s collarbone, glancing up at his face for a moment and then latching onto one nipple with his lips and squeezing at the other with his fingers. 

 Eggsy hadn’t really paid much attention to his nipples before, but whatever Harry was doing to them was sending jolts straight to his cock. He hissed in a breath and arched his back, pulling against the headboard. With his free hand, Harry palmed at Eggsy’s cock, spreading his copious precome around over his shaft in a loose grip. 

 “Okay?” he asked again, pausing his tonguing at Eggsy’s nipple to check his reaction.

 Eggsy choked out a laugh. “Yes yes yes, Harry. You don’t have to-- fuuuuck...” Harry had squeezed at his cock, twisting his hand around the head. Eggsy strained to look down his body at what Harry was doing, whilst still keeping the position Harry had put him into. “Fucking hell…” he panted, and Harry only grinned again, repositioning himself to kneel alongside Eggsy’s hips. He glanced at Eggsy’s face to make sure he was watching, and slowly lowered his mouth closer and closer to his cock until Eggsy could feel the alternating cool rush of air and warm cloud of his breathing. Harry held Eggsy’s gaze for hours, _years_ , until he nonchalantly flicked his tongue out and lapped at the pearl of precome at the tip of Eggsy’s cock. 

 It was such a small, quick touch, it should have been impossible for it to flood Eggsy’s body with shivering pleasure in the way that it did, but he arched his back and bucked up towards the heat of Harry’s mouth and strained his hands against the imaginary bonds that held him to the headboard. Harry pulled back, holding his open mouth just - _just_ \- out of reach of Eggsy’s cock until Eggsy whimpered and lay back down and only _then_ did Harry take a firm grip of the base of his shaft in both hands and wrap his lips around the head and lower his mouth until he reached his own fingers. He stayed there, Eggsy’s cock pressing at the top of his throat, and looked up to make eye contact, then _squeezed_ at the base of his cock with his hands while his tongue rolled along the underside of the head. Eggsy let out an involuntary groan and Harry pulsed his hands, adding tight rhythmic pressure to Eggsy’s slowly swelling knot in time with the little bobs of his head as he worked the tip with his tongue. 

 Eggsy had never felt anything like this before. He’d had blowjobs, sure. His couple of beta girlfriends had gone down on him, and there’d been a few clumsy encounters with beta guys in nightclub toilets. He’d even had one heat-struck omega give him head to get him going again when the world’s worst cramp had crippled him mid-fuck. But he’d never really seen the point of oral; it was a less deep, less tight, less satisfying facsimile of fucking. That was because none of his previous experiences even came _close_ to Harry. It wasn’t just that he really fucking knew what he was doing - although, _fuck_ , what he was doing was incredible. It was also the obvious, visceral enjoyment he had while doing it. He radiated satisfaction at every moan that Eggsy let escape, hummed with pleasure at every urgent little jerk of his hips and all through it, whether he was taking as much length down his throat as he could, or teasing at the slit with the tip of his tongue, he was watching Eggsy’s face, drinking in his reactions, loving every moment of it. 

 As if to provide evidence, Harry paused for a breath and moved to straddle one of Eggsy’s legs, adjusting his squeezing grip to shift one hand to pulse pressure up behind Eggsy’s balls. His hips rocked and Eggsy felt the hard heat of Harry’s cock pressing against his shin, proving beyond all doubt that he absolutely  _ was _ getting off on sucking Eggsy’s cock. Eggsy felt another flare of heat sweep down his body and he bent his knee slightly, giving Harry a better angle to rut against. In response, Harry damn near swallowed his cock, his magical fingers still squeezing around Eggsy’s knot, giving him everything he’d never known he wanted. Eggsy’s whole body twitched and he panted out a guttural moan, still forcing himself to clutch onto the headboard though he desperately wanted to reach down and wind his fingers into Harry’s sweat-damp hair.

 Harry adjusted his grip on Eggsy’s knot, changing the angle of his hand and tightening his hold at the base. He pulsed his fingers again and rocked his hips into Eggsy’s shin, fumbling with his flies to get his hand down his trousers so he could stroke himself. He looked up at Eggsy with his face dripping with saliva and precome and pleasure and Eggsy groaned and arched his back and just about managed to croak out “Harry, I’m--” before his balls tightened and he was coming; hard, spurting up into Harry’s mouth, across his face, over his own belly and thighs… 

 Harry moaned loudly and shuddered against Eggsy’s leg, before resuming his two-handed hold on his knot, squeezing him through the orgasm. His face broke into a broad, beaming smile, his expression glowing with satisfaction and he kissed the tip of Eggsy’s cock and whispered “good god, you’re beautiful,” like he really meant it. He kept eye contact with Eggsy through the afterglow, still rocking his hands around Eggsy’s slowly softening knot, dipping his head to lap at his cock or lick a trail of come from his hip. And when Eggsy finally let go of his grip on the headboard and reached for Harry, he kissed his way up his come-streaked stomach and flopped on the bed next to him. 

 Eggsy leaned in for a kiss but Harry pulled back slightly. Eggsy frowned. “Kiss me.” It was half a request and half a question. 

 “I’ve uh, got some…” Harry stammered, wiping at his face and Eggsy laughed out loud. 

 “I know. That’s why I want to kiss you! C’mere,” he pulled Harry to him and pressed his mouth to Harry’s in a deep French kiss, then lapped at his cheek and chin, cleaning himself off Harry’s face. 

 Harry whined into his jaw, “oh fuck. You’re perfect. Fuck.” He nuzzled at Eggsy’s neck, snuffling little breaths as if he was scenting. Eggsy giggled and rolled over onto his side, twining his legs with Harry’s. They kissed again; slower now, Eggsy savouring their mixed scents. 

 “I’m sorry,” he murmured, scooping up a streak of come from his belly and rubbing it between his fingers.

 Harry stared at him incredulously. “What on earth for?” He reached for Eggsy’s hand, and after a moment of hesitation for permission, sucked his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sticky fingertips. 

 Eggsy groaned at that and pushed his fingers further into Harry’s mouth before pulling them out and brushing back a stray strand of hair from his eyes. “For coming so soon. I just… I’ve been a bit pent-up, I guess.” He bit his lip, a little embarrassed. It had been a long time since orgasm had taken him surprise so quickly like that. And with so little effort. Usually he had to delve into his mental wank bank to find something that he could get off to, but with Harry all he’d needed was… Harry. 

 His stomach lurched when Harry started laughing. He tried to suppress it but his chest shook and he was chewing at his lip to try to keep it in. “Oh god, I’m sorry, Eggsy,” Harry pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… well…” 

 He took Eggsy’s hand and guided it down between their bodies, pressed Eggsy’s fingers against the front of his underwear. It was soaking wet and slightly sticky and Eggsy squeezed his fingers around Harry’s soft cock for a moment before realising what he was feeling. “Oh! Oh wow. You…?” 

 Harry nodded, slightly shy now. “About ten seconds after you. Only with far less… impetus.” He his his face behind Eggsy’s shoulder. “So it’s me who should be apologising to you, really.”

 Eggsy grinned at him. “No worries, we’ve all done it. I’m just… amazed that was enough for you.” He rubbed his hand into the front of Harry’s pants again, getting his palm wet.

 Harry gazed solemnly at him. “You are extraordinary. The moment you came, that was it for me. That was all I needed.”

 Eggsy lifted his hand to his face and scented, watching Harry’s expression, wondering if this display of alpha behaviour would ruffle him at all. He only meant to do it as a gesture but when the scent reached him, his pupils dilated and his jaw went slack. “Oh my fuck…” He clamped his hand over his mouth and nose and inhaled deeply. “Oh fuck me, Harry, that is...” He swiped his hand over his own cock, mixing himself and Harry together on his hand and scented again. “Fucking hell.”

 Harry was watching him, biting his lip. He looked anxious and Eggsy hastily kissed him. “You smell incredible. It’s so good.” He sucked at his thumb, warily watching Harry for any disapproval. Harry only licked his lips, eyeing him hungrily. Eggsy openly licked at his hand, savouring the dual scent and taste. “Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” he kissed Harry again, full of tongue, needing to share this with him. “I’ve never felt like this before. Never found anyone who smelt so good. I know it’s weird. I’m sorry.”

 Harry pulled him into a hug. “It’s not weird. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. I--” 

 “You don’t understand. It’s like… if I hadn’t literally just come, the scent of you would have had me hard and pretty much coming. It’s that good.” Eggsy blurted. “Argh, I can’t explain it.” He his his face against Harry’s chest and let himself be gathered up to be held and protected in the circle of Harry’s arms - another thing he’d never experienced before; he’d always been the cuddler, not the cuddlee. He felt safe. _Loved._

 “Well… maybe that’s what happened to me,” Harry offered with a hesitant smile and a kiss to the top of Eggsy’s head. 

 Eggsy huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe it was.” Harry didn’t reply, but Eggsy felt his hands stroking his arm and hip in gentle soothing circles until he fell deeply asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Eggsy woke to darkness, cool air on his skin and an emptiness behind him, though the sheets were still warm. From the bathroom, the toilet flushed and he heard the tap running as Harry washed his hands. He rolled over carefully, expecting the lurch of nausea and headache to kick in at the movement, but apart from a bit of room-spinning, he felt surprisingly okay considering how much he’d drunk last night. 

 Harry padded out of the bathroom in just the navy trousers of his pyjamas with a glass of water which Eggsy sat up and reached for, gulping gratefully. He handed the glass back, flopped down onto his back and started to giggle.

 “What’s tickled you?” Harry asked, climbing back into bed and turning his pillow over to the cool side. He settled himself on his side, propping his head up on his hand. 

 “I was expecting to wake up with a hangover, but think I’m just still fucking pissed.” Eggsy wriggled wildly, worming closer so that his body pressed up against Harry’s. He buried his face into Harry’s chest and inhaled deeply. “Fucking hell…” It was almost a moan. “I could scent you forever.” He stretched up to kiss Harry, winding a hand around the back of his neck to bring him closer, but Harry pulled back, stiffening.

 “Eggsy… we should talk about this…” Harry started, laying his hand on Eggsy’s chest. 

 “Mmmn, I know… Kingsman are gonna freak out, yeah?” Eggsy murmured, still with his nose pressed against Harry’s collarbone. He kissed the hollow of Harry’s throat and shifted his hips; he was rapidly getting hard again. 

 Harry grasped one of his hands and pressed his lips against Eggsy’s knuckles. “To say the least, but--”

 “Can’t we just have tonight before we have to think about all the complicated stuff?” Eggsy interrupted, rolling his hips deliberately against Harry’s thigh. “Because like, right now I’m really gonna struggle to concentrate on anything that isn’t me fucking you. And…” he shuffled again, “it kinda feels like you might be on the same page, eh?” Harry’s cock was firming up, pressing into his hip.

 “Eggsy…” Harry tried again, though it was obvious that he was more than a little distracted. 

 Eggsy kissed him, sliding his hand down Harry’s side and wiggling his fingers under the waistband of his pyjamas and sighed happily when Harry melted into him and started to kiss him back. “You’re fucking incredible, Harry,” he whispered into Harry’s neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you riding my cock - ohhh--” There had been a definite twitch of interest against his hip at that. Eggsy wrapped his leg around Harry’s thigh and raked his nails down his back. “You want that?” He kissed Harry again, pressing his erection against him. “Can I fuck you?” He palmed his hand over the front of Harry’s pyjamas, stroking at him through the fabric. “Please?”

 “Oh good lord, yes,” Harry groaned, rutting his hips slightly into Eggsy’s hand. “But… Eggsy, I--” he was interrupted again as Eggsy climbed on top of him, straddling him. He sat up and grinned down at Harry, completely unselfconsciously naked. Harry eyed him up, running his hands over Eggsy’s thighs and brushing over his cock. 

 Eggsy squirmed and wriggled away from the touch. “Fuck, sorry to break the mood but I’m dying for a slash.” He swung his leg over Harry’s body in a surprisingly graceful dismount and clambered less smoothly off the bed. “Hold that thought; I’ll be right back.”

 He pissed as quickly as he could, leaning against the vanity unit to steady himself. Bloody ships - whoever thought it would be a good idea to have bars on a fucking ship? As if being drunk on dry land wasn’t hard enough on a man’s balance. He splashed water on his face and had a very fast bit of a wash in strategic places, then stepped back into the room. “Okay, where were--” he trailed off. 

 Harry was naked, lying on his belly across the bed. He had one leg pulled up to expose his backside, which was glistening in the dim light with the sheen of lube. On the sheets next to him, an alpha-sized condom and the bottle of lube lay within easy reach. He glanced over his shoulder at Eggsy. “I believe you were just about to fuck me.” He bit his lip, cheeks colouring slightly. “I, uh, took the liberty…”

 “Fuckenell, Harry…” Eggsy’s voice was hoarse. He got onto the bed quickly, crawling up Harry’s body to kiss at the back of his neck. “You don’t mess about, eh?”

 Harry squirmed “I… I just--”

 Eggsy flopped onto his side next to him and pulled him into a kiss. “Shush. It’s hot. You’re hot. Fuck.” He kissed Harry again, then pulled away and paused, sniffing the air, frowning. “What’s that?” He leaned into Harry’s neck and scented again. 

 “It’s the lube!” Harry stammered out. He groped for the bottle and held it up. A synthetic omega scent blend. Harry was blushing deeply. “Uh, it’s all I had to hand,” he muttered. 

 “Omega lube and alpha condoms,” Eggsy grinned, “what were you expecting to get up to on this cruise?”

 Harry chuckled weakly. “Always be prepared for every eventuality.” He looked at Eggsy hesitantly. “Is it… okay?”

 Eggsy nuzzled at his hairline. “Of course it’s okay. Fuck, you getting all lubed up and waiting is just..” he bit gently just below Harry’s ear, “so _fucking_ hot.” 

 “That’s a lovely way to say ‘utterly desperate’, thank you.” Harry managed a teasing smile. 

 “Nah, fuck off with that bullshit,” Eggsy shook his head. “No putting yourself down, okay?” He kissed Harry’s forehead. “You’re fucking sexy and I _need_ to get in you.” He trailed his hand down Harry’s spine and took a slow, leisurely handful of arse cheek, squeezing firmly. “How do you like it? Wanna be on top? Gives you a bit more control?”

 Harry blushed again. “I think… Well, it’s been a while, so I think I’ll be better off like this?” He wiggled his arse a little, lifting his hips. 

 “Yeah?” Eggsy nodded, though he felt slightly disappointed; he’d wanted to be able to see Harry’s face, not just the back of his head like he was any heat-struck omega. He shrugged. “If it’s good for you, then it’s good for me.” He picked up the bottle of lube and flipped the cap, sniffing suspiciously. “This is freakily realistic in like, a plasticky kinda way, y’know?” He poured some onto his fingers and rubbed them together.

 “It’s good stuff,” Harry agreed. “Alphas seem to like it.” He flinched as Eggsy brought his lubed fingers to the curve of his arse.   


 Eggsy pulled back. “Sorry, you okay?”

 “Yes yes, it was just cold.” Harry hugged a pillow under his chest and relaxed his body with a big sigh. “Keep going.” 

 Eggsy kissed him and slid his fingers down into the cleft of Harry’s buttocks, moving easily with the slick of the lube that was already there. He worked down to the rim of his hole and paused, stroking a gently finger over it, back and forth. Harry grumbled at him and looked him straight in the eye as he rocked his hips back, pushing himself onto Eggsy’s finger. “You don’t have to be coy with me, it’s hardly my first time.”

 “Yeah, but Harry,” Eggsy laid kisses along Harry’s shoulder and down his biceps, “it’s just too nice a job to rush.” He got the message though, and steadily worked two fingers up into the heat of Harry’s body. He bit his lip, concentrating. He'd never actually done this before; not with a bloke who wasn't an omega in full heat, and only one aborted attempt with a beta ex girlfriend, who called off the whole experiment before he'd even got his cock anywhere near her arsehole. Despite all the omega guys he’d been with and all the porn he’d watched and all the ‘Understanding Your Dynamic’ pamphlets he’d handed out, he felt very unsure of himself, here, now, with the memory of the mind-blowing orgasm Harry had given him just a few hours ago looming in the back of his mind: a weight on an unbalanced scale.

 But Eggsy had never been one to back down from a challenge. He shifted position slightly to get deeper in. Harry was slick and yielded easily to Eggsy's fingers, but he was a hell of a lot tighter than the inviting openness of a heatstruck omega. Eggsy curled his fingers inside and explored, twisting his hand for better angles against the grip of Harry’s muscles. There was an area of firmer texture and Eggsy probed at it. Harry groaned a contented sigh.

 “There?” Eggsy asked, going over it again. “Is that good?” 

 “Very,” was Harry's low reply. “But you can do more. More fingers. Open me up. I won't break.” Eggsy pulled back his hand and added more of the omega-scented lube, then went back in with three fingers and a bit more oomph which made Harry hiss out a long “yessss” that made Eggsy’s cock twitch. 

 “Fuck, Harry, you feel amazing,” he whispered - almost with reverence, like he didn’t want to disturb the sanctity of the moment. 

 Harry turned to look at him over his shoulder. “So get your cock in me, alpha. Hurry up.”

 It was the sheer confidence that did it. Eggsy was used to being begged for a fuck, had heard all manner of pleading and declarations of want or need - but to just be told flat-out to get on with it in that cool, composed voice… _Fuck_. He was between Harry’s thighs in a matter of moments, rolling on a condom and slicking himself up with the omega-lube - which didn’t hold a candle to the way Harry smelled right now, legs wide, ready to be fucked. 

 He grabbed hold of Harry’s arse cheeks with both hands and spread him open, running his thumbs over his slippery hole. Harry lifted his hips and rocked back, impatiently trying to get something inside him. Eggsy slapped him at the top of his thigh. “I’m getting there!” he grumbled with a grin. He stroked at his own cock again, lining himself up, and pushed gently. 

 It wasn’t going in. 

 Eggsy shoved down the adolescent rising panic and slid both his index fingers into Harry’s arse, pulling them apart to try to loosen Harry up some more. He positioned his cock again and rocked his hips. The pressure at the head of his cock was intense, but it wasn’t going anywhere. 

 Harry wriggled his hips. “Stop tormenting me, you terrible tease.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder. “I’m ready, go for it.”

 “Harry, mate…” Eggsy puffed hair out of his eyes. “It ain’t gonna fit. It’s gonna hurt ya.” He knelt back down, rubbing absently at his cock. 

 Harry burst out laughing. “Not to dent your ego, but I sincerely doubt that.” He half turned over to assess the situation, then gave crisp instructions. “Okay. Get up on your knees, hips locked straight and _stay there_ , no matter what. I’m going to push back against you, okay?” Harry rose  onto all fours and flexed his back. 

 With some trepidation, Eggsy got himself into place and tensed his muscles. “Alright, give it a go--ohhhhhh….” his words ended in a gasp as Harry rocked himself back and _pushed_ \- harder than Eggsy would have dared - and his arse opened up around Eggsy’s cock and _fuck_ , if he’d thought Harry felt good with his hands and mouth, then this was another level entirely. He was surrounded in heat and wet and _grip_. A tightness that should be uncomfortable but instead wrapped around him with such overwhelming perfection that for a moment Eggsy was genuinely worried he was going to come just from that alone. He rested his hands on Harry’s arse both to steady himself and to slow Harry down a little - surely he needed some time to adjust? “You okay?” Eggsy winced at the quaver in his voice.

 Harry glanced at him over his shoulder with the widest ‘I told you so’ victorious grin on his face. “Incredible. Ye of little faith.” He rocked back again, inching himself further down Eggsy’s cock and letting out little moans and gasps. Eggsy’s knot was already growing, his body tricked by Harry’s tightness into thinking an omega was almost coming. The widening knot nestled between Harry’s cheeks, marking the stop line, and Harry virtually purred in satisfaction. “Oh wow…” he sighed, letting the top half of his body flop down to the bed, leaving his backside in the air.

 “What, like… what do you want?” Eggsy asked, feeling a bit stupid, but all this was so _easy_ with omegas, and so different here with Harry - wonderful, so much better - but different and new and he felt like a visitor in some weird world where he didn’t know any of the rules. 

 Harry chuckled into the mattress, reached behind himself to wrap his fingers around Eggsy’s knot and said “fuck me,” like it was that simple. 

 And then, just like that, it really was that simple. Eggsy took hold of Harry’s hips and pulled back a little before rutting forward and Harry’s body tightened around him and then he was just _fucking_. Fucking purely because it felt good. Not because omega pheromones were setting off distress sirens in his head. Not because his body was hijacked into doing whatever the omega needed whether he wanted it or not. Not because it was what was expected of him. Not for sympathy or guilt or obligation. Just fucking because at that moment it was exactly what _he_ wanted, exactly how he wanted to feel, exactly who he wanted to be with. Fucking because _he_ wanted it, for _himself_ , for his own pleasure. It felt decadent and slutty. He loved it. 

 And Harry… Harry was incredible. He arched and curved his back, angling his hips to get Eggsy where he wanted, shamelessly using the alpha cock for his own pleasure. And that elevated it up again. Harry wasn’t here because it’d hurt if he didn’t get fucked. He wasn’t looking to cross off an item on a sexual bucket list - Eggsy rather suspected that there were very few sexual things Harry wanted to that he hadn’t already got round to, if his stories were to be believed. He wasn’t mindlessly obeying his biology. He was here, on his knees, with Eggsy up to the knot in him because he fucking _wanted_ it. He wanted the sex because it felt good. But also, out of all the people on this ship he could have fucked, he wanted _Eggsy_. It was almost too much to take in. 

 Harry was twisted awkwardly on the bed, one hand reached behind him to grasp at Eggsy’s knot, the other shoved down underneath his body, presumably stroking at his cock. His head was wedged into a pile of pillows and as Eggsy picked up the pace a little, his legs spread apart and his hips slid down until he was flat on his belly on the bed. Eggsy slowed up to give him a chance to get back up but Harry growled into the mattress, “Don’t fucking stop!”

 Eggsy took a gamble. He pulled out and shoved Harry’s legs closed so that he could sit astride them both, then pulled Harry’s arse cheeks apart with his hands and pushed himself back in with none of his earlier anxiousness about hurting him. Harry reached for his knot again but Eggsy took his wrist and bent it up the middle of his back in a gentle but firm armlock. He grabbed a handful of Harry’s hair to pull his his head back and leaned his weight onto the hold, fucking into him as hard as his protesting thigh muscles could manage. 

 The response was well worth the effort. Harry murmured his approval at being manhandled into position, and moaned out loud when Eggsy reentered him, but that was nothing next to the guttural hiss of satisfaction at being held down and fucked hard. Eggsy could feel his body responding, Feel the heat radiating off his skin and the tremor in his legs. Harry was still so unbelievably tight around his cock, and was moaning out soft little grunts into the pillows he was clutching and he smelled _so fucking good_. Eggsy flopped forward to lie on top of him, nosing and scenting at the fresh sweat beading between his shoulder blades. He scraped his teeth across Harry’s skin and realised that for the first time in his life, he really wanted to bite. He’d never felt the urge before but now his mind was filled with images of  marking that gorgeous blank canvas, claiming it as his own. He grit his teeth and pulled his face away. Too tempting. 

 But fuck, that scent had got him going. His knot was aching now, throbbing full but feeling no tight squeeze of omega muscles. He released Harry’s arm and wrapped his hand around himself, pulsing his fingers like he did when wanking at home. Harry glanced over his shoulder at him. “Are you close?” he panted out, but he sounded hopeful, maybe expectant; not disappointed by Eggsy’s lack of stamina. Eggsy nodded, grunting out an affirmative noise and hoping Harry wouldn’t think he was a shit lay. Harry twisted his shoulders to look at him. “Eggsy, will you…” he hesitated and took a breath. “Come on me.” It wasn’t a question.

 The words were rushed but they went straight to Eggsy’s cock. His mind filled with images of Harry’s body striped with his come, it splattered across his backside or dripping down his chest. “Oh fuck,” he gasped and pulled out of Harry’s arse, clutching his knot in one hand and stroking at his shaft with the other, stripping off the condom. “Where? Where on you?” His voice was urgent, terse; he didn’t have long. 

 “Anywhere,” Harry reached out to him, grabbing him by the biceps and pulling him to crawl up his body, “anywhere.” Eggsy was close enough now for Harry to wrap his long fingers around his knot and squeeze in pulsing, tight perfection. “On my face,” Harry suggested breathlessly, _eagerly_ , and that did it; Eggsy groaned and came. His aim was poor, catching Harry on the neck and chin at first, and then Harry directed the next few spurts onto his cheek and across his mouth. His whole body shuddered and Eggsy jumped in alarm before realising that Harry was coming too, his left hand working hard at himself. He stifled a moan that sounded filthier than any yell could have been. It was too much. Eggsy trembled and collapsed down onto the bed, one leg still hooked across Harry’s shoulders. 

 Harry still had hold of him, was mouthing at his cock, nuzzling into his balls, sniffing and licking at him and stroking him through the last of the orgasm. The direct touch quickly went from exquisite to overstimulating and Eggsy wriggled weakly away, scrambling in a mess of loose and ungainly limbs to hold Harry’s face in his hands and kiss himself off his lips. Harry reached for his knot again, holding it firmly at the base, not doing anything more than adding the tight pressure that his body wanted. Eggsy sighed gratefully into his mouth and scented at Harry’s hairline, trying to capture every aspect of this moment; to sear every facet into his memory.

 Harry brought his other hand up, still streaked with his own come, to brush hair from his eyes and the smell of it hit Eggsy like a train. He gasped a huge breath in, absorbing more of the scent, his pulse pounding in his ears. His cock twitched in Harry’s grip and he felt himself spurting out again, coming again, or just coming more - it was so close on the heels of the other one it was difficult to tell. His whole body felt like white noise - he could feel everything and nothing all at once; detached from himself and wonderful and scared, so scared because nothing like this had ever happened before. His chest heaved and he heard himself making desperate sobbing noises that he was completely unable to control. And then, out of the fog, there was Harry: strong and calm and comforting and gentle and solid and Eggsy clung to him and breathed him in and found himself again, wrapped in Harry’s arms, safe. 

 He was being rocked, a slow inch or two forward, inch or two back. Harry held him tight to his chest, with the top of Eggsy’s head tucked up under his chin and their legs intertwined and he was stroking at Eggsy’s arms and side and kissing his temples and telling him that it was okay, everything was okay, he was beautiful and wonderful and perfect and Harry was here, Harry was here, Harry was here. And somehow, somehow, he was right. Harry was here and everything was okay. Eggsy scrubbed at the tears that had fallen across his cheeks and took a deep breath, then another. He lay there in Harry’s arms until his pulse steadied back to normal and his mind calmed. 

 “Well,” Eggsy said when he’d regained his voice. “That was fucking embarrassing.”

 Harry’s chest vibrated as he chuckled. “It was rather wonderful, on the whole.” He linked fingers with Eggsy’s and kissed his knuckles. 

 “Yeah, but I kinda ruined the mood at the end there, didn’t I?” Eggsy knew he was blushing. He felt ridiculous. One minute, having an amazing shag, the next being cradled like a baby, sobbing his heart out. What the fuck would Harry think of him? That he was an emotional wreck? An immature virgin? A tearful omega-type? Christ. 

 Harry shrugged. “I always think it’s rather sweet.” He gave Eggsy’s hand a squeeze and rubbed his thumb over the side of Eggsy’s finger.

 “Oh you ‘always think’, do you?” Eggsy wriggled out of the hug to look Harry in the eye. “Often fuck people to tears, do you?”

 “It’s happened once or twice,” Harry smiled at him. “How was it for you? The fuck, I mean, not the… afterward. Was it... okay?” He actually sounded uncertain.

 Eggsy flopped onto his back, amazed that he would have to ask. “Harry, you made me come twice in two minutes and it broke my brain.”

 Harry kissed him; a soft peck on the lips. “Yes, I am sorry about that.”

 “So you should be,” Eggsy tried to keep the note of indignance in his voice, but he was rapidly melting into Harry’s kisses and it was getting harder to remember what he was pretending to be annoyed about. 

 “I was going to go for three.” 

 “Harry!” Eggsy burst out incredulously.

 Harry grinned at him. “What? It’s one of the upsides, isn’t it? Beta men may control the world and shit on everyone else, but at least beta women and grammas have multiple orgasms.”

 Eggsy laughed. “Yeah, but I was always told that we only get multiples when we’re with our bondmates. Not like beta chicks who can get them out of a hitachi wand.”

 Harry was quiet for a moment. “Eggsy, I--”

 “Fuck me, I’m knackered.” Eggsy yawned loudly and stretched, bones in his back and ankles cracking. “Sorry Harry, what did you say?"

"Oh, nothing important." Harry squeezed him close for a moment.

Eggsy wiggled happily. "Is it okay if I stay here to sleep? I really don’t think I could make it to the sofa. Shit, I can feel the hangover looming, it’s gonna be massive. Fuck.” He rolled over onto his side, curling up into a ball with his back to Harry, and yanked the shoved-aside bed covers over him.

 “Of course you can stay.” Harry murmured, pulling the duvet up over Eggsy’s shoulder. “Of course.” He rearranged his pillow and settled down too, one arm lightly over Eggsy’s waist.

 Eggsy’s muffled response was unintelligible, but his breathing soon deepened into soft snores while Harry watched the rise and fall of his chest, thinking. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh! Harry is ALPHA! *dramatic music *


	5. The Pubertal Gramma: a guide for allo parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought 18k was a bit long for one chapter so I chopped it in half.

_ The Pubertal Gramma: a guide for allo parents _

_ You may have opted for the predictive blood test at around ten years old; you may have decided that 80% accuracy wasn’t enough and chosen to have a full DNA screen; or you may be simply leaving everything to be a surprise - whichever route you’ve chosen for your child, if there’s a chance they might present as omega, you should educate yourselves early on the signs of presentation and how best to smooth what can be a rocky path to gramma adulthood.  _

_ In general, the physical differences between gramma and allo biology begin to become apparent at around the age of puberty. While the age of puberty has tended to get younger over the last hundred years or so in allosexual children in the Western world, with an age of ten to twelve being normal, the opposite is true for grammasexual children, who are tending to become biologically distinct later, at around age thirteen or fourteen.  _

_ Interestingly, in the Developing world, grammas tend to present earlier than their Western counterparts, at eleven to thirteen - the same time as their allo peers. There has long been speculation that increased bodyweight leads to earlier puberty in allo children, and there is growing evidence that more weight has a delaying effect for gramma children. Or to put the same thing into crude evolutionary terms: allos breed earlier when food is plenty, and grammas breed earlier when food is scarce.  _

_ All children, allo and gramma, will experience a sex-differentiated puberty which everyone is familiar with. Grammas however, will have a second wave of physical changes in which they become physically distinct - this is known as ‘presentation’. There is a third wave of gramma puberty two to three years after presentation where their bodies become physically mature and ready for mating. Alphas experience their first true rut, and omegas go through their first true heat. This is commonly known as the ‘break’ or the ‘leap’ - the jump into adulthood. The gap between presentation and break is usually a time of tentative youthful experimentation and development of relationship skills. _

_ Externally, the female omega will develop more of a exaggerated feminine curve, with wider hips and a relatively narrow waist, but otherwise will appear fairly similar to an allo female. The male omega tends to have slightly wider hips as well and to have less overall height and muscle mass than beta or alpha males. There is a shallower scrotum - to keep the ovarian tissue closer the body and therefore warmer - and less erectile tissue in the penis, which also has tighter skin.  _

_ More obvious changes are seen in alpha males, where the opposite occurs: larger bone structure and high muscle mass makes for an imposing figure. The testes are large and hang low, and the penis is both larger overall and has more erectile tissue, particularly at the base of the shaft where there is a thick band of tissue that will fill with blood to create a hard bulb or ‘knot’ when mating that will lock the participants together for some time after orgasm, increasing the likelihood of conception. To allow for this expansion, the skin of the penis is loose and elastic and is quite visually distinct from an allo male’s penis, even when flaccid.  _

_ Similarly, the female alpha is usually bigger and more muscled than allo females. The gonads tend to sit lower in the abdomen, though it’s rare for them to drop far enough down to be externally palpable - the female alpha with testicles is a myth! The clitoris develops significantly, with a complex internal structure of erectile tissue and specialised ischiocavernosus muscles that allows it to extend outside the body as a phallus for mating. _

_ Puberty is usually more difficult for male omegas and female alphas as their bodies adapt for dual roles. Male omegas often experience lower abdominal cramps as their vestigial womb, cervix and birth canal develop rapidly over the course of around six to nine months. Female alphas have similar growing pains as their phallus grows. In both cases, gonadal organs differentiate into oestrogen and egg-producing tissue at the top and testosterone and sperm-producing tissue at the bottom, served by both fallopian and vas deferens ducts. These cramps and pains can be quite debilitating at times and if severe, it is important to take the child to be checked by a specialist as ‘tube tangling’ can occur inside the body, which can lead to life-threatening complications.  _

* * *

  
  
It was almost 10am when Harry’s bladder forced him out of bed. He eased off the mattress and padded to the bathroom as silently as he could; though Eggsy seemed to be so deeply asleep he probably didn’t have to be so cautious. The fluorescent light flickered into life and he stared numbly at the dirty old man in the mirror. Sick. He was sick. What he had done was unforgivable. A huge betrayal of trust. Part of him rationalised that it had been the drink; that he was emotionally compromised while his body adjusted to coming off his suppressants; that Eggsy had made all the first moves. But he knew he was lying to himself.

Ultimately, it was simple: he’d known exactly what he was doing and Eggsy hadn’t known the full facts. If Harry had been honest with him, he may well have made completely different decisions. But he hadn’t. He’d kept quiet. Lied. Deliberately misdirected. His scent was masked by his meds, and even the lube he’d chosen had contributed to covering the truth. He felt sick to his stomach and it wasn’t just the hangover he absolutely deserved. He was manipulative. A molester. A rapist.

 Hands shaking with self-loathing, Harry took his morning tablets. He only had two reduced doses of the pressin left. It would take a couple more days for his body to metabolise the last of it and then that would be it: he’d be naked in his true scent for the first time in thirty five years.

 And Eggsy would realise all the lies Harry had been living.

 Harry felt weak. He grabbed hold of the vanity to support himself, knocking the empty pressin box to the floor. He had to tell him. It was probably only the proximity and the slow gradual change and the ship full of thousands of scents that had kept Eggsy from realising already. He had to tell him before he figured it out. Somehow admitting the lies would be better than being confronted with them. At the very least, he could choose when and where. He could… _explain_. Though how the fuck he was going to explain last night…

 He sighed heavily and ran the tap, washing himself in cold water like some kind of penance, and using yesterday’s towel to dry off. Creeping back into the room, he grabbed jogging clothes and trainers, dressing quickly. Eggsy rolled over and mumbled a question sleepily at him. “I’m going to do a couple of laps of the running track, try to sweat out the last of the alcohol,” Harry told him. He put a bottle of water on the bedside table. “Here, you’ll probably be wanting this when you wake up properly.”

 “Harry, you’re a total gent, mate.” Eggsy’s voice was hoarse and thick; he’d still barely opened his eyes. “I’ll be up in a bit. Shower. Clothes. All that functioning human stuff. Just ten more minutes.”

“Take your time, no rush,” and even though he knew he was just digging himself deeper, Harry responded to Eggsy’s reaching hand and allowed himself to be pulled closer for a quick kiss. He stood up quickly and grabbed his phone. “I’ll see you later,” he squeezed Eggsy’s shoulder. Any reply was lost in the duvet.

On deck, the sun was obnoxiously bright and Harry considered going back for his sunglasses, or buying a cheap pair from the kiosk one deck down, but realised he’d left his wallet in the room. Of course. His earbuds were still in his tracksuit pocket though, so he thumbed through his phone for music and hit the jogging track that circled the ship to the sound of the gentle flute that opened the Bolero.

 The track had been designed to be exactly one kilometer around, and Harry had a slow start: the french horn had the melody by the time he completed the first lap. But the tempo was increasing, along with the breeze, and he stretched his legs out a little more as he rounded the curve at the stern. The deck was fairly quiet and subdued; last night had been a big one for a lot of people, it seemed. A handful of people were delicately playing quoits, a few more nursing large glasses of iced orange juice on the sun loungers. By the time the strings took the lead, Harry had settled into his pace and could feel himself starting to sweat a little. He finished the second lap with the orchestra in full voice and put his head down for a fast final circuit.

 He was breathing harder now, back muscles complaining and his right knee clicking with every step. He deserved the pain, considering what he’d got up to. The orchestra abruptly shifted into E major just as he approached the curve at the bow and he knew he’d have to sprint to reach his start point before his self-imposed deadline. His feet pounded into the rubberised track, right foot slipping a little in a shoe not tied quite tight enough. The end was in sight, and the music reaching crescendo. As the last iteration of the melody broke down into the coda, Harry threw himself into a full dash. And it was then that the image of the suppressant box, knocked to the floor from the bathroom vanity, surfaced in his mind. The music swelled into the climactic dissonant chord and its collapse into a stop preceded his own by only a couple of beats.

 He knelt on the deck, clinging to a railing and panted heavily, wondering why the fuck he chose to do things like this to himself. Not just the running, but leaving that box on the floor. Because it had absolutely been a choice. He’d taken those damn tablets virtually every single day, through missions and warzones and sharing a one man tent between three agents for a fortnight, and never once come close to being as careless as this. So. Obviously he’d done it on purpose. Fuck. He considered dashing down in the hopes that Eggsy hadn’t got up yet, but the thought of being caught trying to hide the evidence was worse.

 Well. It was done. For good or for ill, this would force the issue and it’d all be over shortly. The strings of the Dance of the Knights started up on his playlist and he yanked the buds from his ears, thumbing the music off. Enough of that. He needed a pint of water and a stern talking to. He headed for the pool bar - virtually deserted at this time in the morning - and called Merlin.

* * *

 

 

“Harry! Before midday! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Merlin was chirpy. Jovial almost. It added another note of strangeness to Harry’s already very emotionally wrought day. “How are you this morning?”

“I woke up with a blinding headache and a twenty five year old in my bed and I… have absolutely no idea what to do now,” Harry blurted out.

Merlin affected an air of grave concern. “Oh dear… That’s a puzzler. Have you thought about maybe - a couple of paracetamol and a decent black coffee?”

“A fountain of wisdom, as always…” Harry grumbled, folding himself into a deckchair in the shade, well away from anyone else.

 A broad grin. “So, am I correct in assuming this lucky lad is Eggsy?”

 “Of course it’s fucking Eggsy,” Harry snapped, “who else would it be?”

 Merlin held up a hand placatingly. “Alright, alright, just checking.” He took a sip from a tumbler that was down to mostly ice - it must be late evening in the UK. That explained the good mood then. “So… I’m failing to see a problem? He obviously took the news well.”

 Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s the problem. I didn’t tell him.”

 There was a silence. Harry heard the dull clink of Merlin setting his glass down. “Right. Okay. See, when you said that you woke up with him in your bed, I assumed that you meant that you’d spent the night together. _Sexually_.” He gestured very graphically and Harry grimaced. “That, and finding all your comms muted, kinda added up to paint a certain picture.”

 Harry gulped at his water. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”

 Another silence. Merlin topped up his Glenfiddich and sipped at it, raising an eyebrow at the camera and simply waiting for an explanation.

 “I was going to tell him. All day, I was going to tell him, but I never found the right moment and then he kissed me and everything escalated and then it was _happening_ and I still hadn’t told him and... “ Harry trailed off.

 Merlin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, frowning. “Now, I’m no expert in what you guys get up to, but I’m reasonably sure that if you’ve had sex with someone, they’re gonna find out about a thing like that, no?”

 Harry rubbed at his forehead. “Over the years with Kingsman, during _certain types_ of operation, I have built up a very specialised skillset in getting people off without having to get out of my trousers.”

 A short chuckle. “Oh aye, I’ve witnessed your ‘skillset’ in the field.” He paused.  “And… that was good for you, was it? You didn’t want to get more… _involved_? When it was real and personal?” There was a hint of judgement in there and Harry felt even more wretched about himself.

 “I just… I couldn’t let him find out like _that_ ,” he explained weakly. He gathered some indignance. “And it _was_ good for me, actually. He is virtually sex incarnate; of course it was fucking _good._ ”

 “Okay, okay…” Merlin chewed at his lip. “But, you’re kind of in an awkward situation now, Harry. Don’t you think?”

 “Oh _am_ I? Gosh, thank you so much for telling me that, Merlin, I had no _fucking_ idea!” Harry hissed at his phone, trying desperately to keep his voice down. “What the hell am I going to do?”

 “Well here’s a novel idea, Harry: _have a fucking conversation_ with the lad, eh?”

 “Oh yes, I’ll just invite him for afternoon tea. ‘Cucumber sandwich, Eggsy? Oh, and by the way, I’ve been systematically lying to you and everyone else about my dynamic for nearly all my life, sorry I tricked you into fucking me, do try to avoid my glasses when punching me in the face, would you?’”

 “Hold on, I’m getting another call,” Merlin tapped at his phone. “Aha! It’s Eggsy.”

 “Shit, what? Shit!” Harry slumped down as if Eggsy could somehow see him.

 Merlin grinned broadly. This kind of farce was exactly up his alley. “I’m gonna answer it. You stay put. Drink your water. Try to calm down.”

 “Oh yea, I’ll just 'calm down' shall I?” Harry muttered, but Merlin had already ended the call.

* * *

  
“Eggsy! Before midday! What an honour,” Merlin answered the call with entirely unnecessary cheerfulness. “How are you?”

“Yeah, hungover as fuck, mate. And like, in a bit of a situation. You got a minute?” Eggsy sat on the edge of the bed, holding the cardboard box he’d found on the floor of the bathroom. “It’s a bit like… _personal_.”

“Right. And you're sure it’s me you want to be talking to? With your _personal_ situation?” The teasing was hard to catch under Merlin’s dry tone.

“Well, I ain’t got that many options, to be honest.” Eggsy sighed. “Rox is busy and this ain't exactly the kind of discussion I want to hand with my mum. So you're what's left.”

 “Flatterer.” Merlin sipped at his Scotch. “So go on then. What’s driven you to the great lengths of asking for my advice?”

 Eggsy steeled himself. “Okay. So… I met this _guy_ …”

 “Christ. _That_ kind of problem, is it?” Merlin stifled a laugh. “Go on, tell me.”

 “Yeah. So like, we’ve been getting to know each other pretty well. And, well…” he rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I might have kinda like, propositioned him last night. And we might have had a load of fucking amazing shagging.”

 Merlin took another drink. “...And? What’s the problem? Or did you just want to tell me you’d got laid? Rub it in for the old man sat at home with only his whisky for company?”

 Eggsy managed a smile. “Nah, nah. So. Like… I thought he was a beta bloke who like alphas, right? I mean, we’ve been talking about a _lot_ of really personal stuff and that’s what he always came across as, yeah?” He rubbed at his nose. “But… now I have reason to believe he’s gramma. And… I don’t know what to do.”

 There was a pause. “He specifically told you he was beta?”

 “Yeah! Well, like… Okay, that’s how he was presenting. He smells… Well, he smells fucking incredible, but he smells _beta_ , and he definitely hasn’t ever said anything to suggest he isn’t beta.”

 “Right. So… what makes you think he’s gramma?” Merlin

 Eggsy wordlessly held up the suppressant packet to his phone camera.

 “Ah.” Merlin blinked in surprise. “Um… Are you sure they’re his?”

 Eggsy nodded. “His prescription sticker is on the box. Name, address, date of birth. They’re his.”

 “Well… I’d say that’s a pretty good clue, then.” Merlin bit his lip. “So… how do you feel about that?”

 “I dunno...” Eggsy sighed and put the box down. “If he is, then… I just feel really fucking stupid. I mean, I’ve spent the last few days blabbering on about gramma issues, gramma life, explaining everything to him like he has no idea - and now I feel like an epic twat.”

 “I’m sure he--”

 “And also, right,” Eggsy interrupted, “I’ve been really, _really,_ fucking brutally honest with him about a lot of shit and I really thought that he was being honest back at me and we were connecting and now, like... “ he gestured wildly. “It feels like I don’t know him at all. Was any of it true? I have no idea.”

 “Well… For a lot of people, it’s really difficult to come out. There’s still a lot of places in the world where grammas are attacked or mistreated; some places where it’s still illegal. And even in the most tolerant cities, an individual’s family or immediate community can make them want to suppress and hide as beta.”

 Eggsy shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know all about phobes and persecution, Merlin. I have no issue that he wanted to suppress, I have an issue that even after all the massively personal stuff we’ve been talking about, even after all the things I said about acceptance and standing up for our rights and campaigning for people who are still struggling; he _still_ didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” His face crumpled. “I don’t get it. If he thinks that I’m such a shithead I’ll somehow change how I feel because he’s not beta, why the _fuck_ would he fuck me?” He scrubbed angrily at a tear. “I mean… what the _fuck_?”

 Merlin was quiet for a while, letting Eggsy regain control of himself. “Eggsy… I really don’t know what to say except that I’m sure that there was no malice involved. I bet he’s feeling just as mixed up and confused right now. He did a stupid thing - a _really_ stupid thing - but trying to second-guess his motivations isn’t going to help. You need to talk to him. Just ask him directly to tell you what’s going on. You can’t be any more confused than you are right now, eh?”

 Eggsy sighed again. “Yeah. You’re right. I just… arrrrgh… Things were going so well.”

 “Then they may go well again. You’ve just gotta give it a shot, right?”

 “I guess.” Eggsy sounded defeated.

 “Okay. Well, you tell him you want to talk, and I’m gonna finish this bottle. Keep me posted.” Merlin held up his glass in a toast and drained it off in one.

 “Yeah, alright.” Eggsy ended the call and sat there for a long time, staring at its blank screen.

* * *

 

Harry almost jumped out of his chair when the phone he’d been willing to ring for the last ten minutes actually lit up and screeched its shrill tone. He answered it hurriedly. “Merlin? What happened?”

 “Harry, you really are a total wanker sometimes.” Merlin didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “You ‘just happened’ to leave that box lying about, did you? You complete coward!”

 Harry winced. “I know, I know. Shit. Does he know? Is he angry? Should I just leave? There’s a helipad, I can swap with Percival or something. Who’s free?”

 Merlin dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Of course he fucking knows. And he’s not that angry, he’s _upset_. And to be honest, I don’t really blame him!”

 Harry put his head in his hands. “He’s upset? Oh god… Why is he--”

 “He’s confused about why you went to bed with him if you didn’t trust him enough to tell him. I think he has a pretty good point, don’t you?”

 “Shit shit shit…” Harry closed his eyes. It almost physically hurt to know that he’d hurt Eggsy.

 “So, Galahad, I am giving you a direct order to find him, to apologise for being an emotionally constipated tosser, and to fucking explain yourself to him - do you understand?”

 Harry nodded mutely. His phone buzzed with a new message notification.

 “Good. Better late than never. I’ll be expecting an update in due course.” Merlin ended the call and Harry automatically opened the message he’d received.

 It was from Eggsy, and simply said: _We need to talk._

* * *

 

The walk back from the pool deck to their room had never been so long or so fast. Harry trekked through miles of corridor, only to find himself outside the door before he had time to blink. He rubbed at the keycard in his hand, but in the end chose to knock as if he was a stranger. It felt wrong to just barge in. Eggsy opened the door but didn’t step back to let Harry in, instead stepping out into the hallway. “Library?” he suggested with a jerk of his head towards the lifts, and Harry could only nod mutely and follow him: a kicked puppy.  

The library had been a good choice - usually quiet anyway, today it was empty save for an elderly couple perusing the day’s papers over coffee in one corner. Eggsy went straight to the furthest wall and tucked himself into one of a pair of armchairs flanking a table set up for chess. Harry perched in the other chair, forcing himself not to wring his hands. A waiter asked if they’d like refreshments and Eggsy ordered two black coffees without consulting Harry. They sat in silence in the midday sun, neither looking at the other. Harry shifted uncomfortably, wanting desperately to blurt out a stream of abject apologies, but not wanting to wrest control of the conversation. He was not in charge here.

Eventually, Eggsy cleared his throat. “White goes first,” he said.  

“Sorry?” Harry asked, nonplussed.

“In chess.” Eggsy nodded at the board between them. “White goes first.”

“Oh.” Harry slid a hand up under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He moved his king’s pawn two spaces forward.

 Eggsy immediately moved his queen’s pawn two spaces to meet Harry’s, then sat back as the coffee was served, along with accoutrements. When the waiter had left, he added two packets of brown sugar to his cup and stirred slowly. Harry hovered his hand over the board and brought out his king’s knight. With barely a pause, Eggsy mirrored him, moving his queen’s knight into play. Harry glanced up at his face, but saw only impassive concentration on the game. He grabbed a piece at random and moved his king’s bishop out into the middle of the board. Eggsy cocked his head, considering his options.

 “I got your message.” His voice was conversational and he took a sip of coffee, sucking in cool air to soothe his tongue from its heat. Again, he mirrored Harry’s move, putting the black king’s bishop right in front of Harry’s.

 “Eggsy I--”

 “It’s your move,” Eggsy interrupted abruptly. Harry pressed his lips together and moved a pawn. Eggsy brought out his other knight, screwing it into its new square firmly. “Your move,” he said again, and Harry moved another pawn, barely registering what he was doing - so it was hardly a surprise when Eggsy deftly took his piece. Harry spotted a counterattack and shifted a pawn to threaten one of Eggsy’s knights.

 Eggsy frowned at the board, resting his chin in his hand. “I thought you already knew, but apparently I need to spell it out.” He rescued his knight, placing it aggressively to threaten another of Harry’s pawns. “I really don’t give a fuck about dynamics.” He paused for a mouthful of coffee. “What I _do_ care about are things that _matter_. Trust, for example. Honesty. Respect. _Friendship_.” He lifted his face to look Harry in the eye for the first time that day. Harry’s heart turned over in his chest to see his lashes holding back tears. “I thought we had all those things, Harry.”

 “Oh Eggsy, it--”

 “It’s _your move_.” Curt and short; Eggsy cut him off again. Harry sucked in a shaky breath and blindly moved his bishop. Eggsy immediately used his knight to take Harry’s pawn, repositioning it to directly threaten the white queen. Harry dragged his mind back to the board. He rescued his queen by using his king to take out the black knight. But Eggsy immediately took out another of the white pawns. “Check”.

 Harry shifted in his seat. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath - and there was perhaps just the tiny flicker of a smile at the corner of Eggsy’s lips at his discomfiture. He moved his king to escape the check, but it looked terribly exposed out in the middle of the board.

 Eggsy took a breath. “I get why people suppress, Harry. I may have chosen to do the same if I hadn’t grown up where I did.” He moved one of his pawns to take a third one of Harry’s. “What I don’t get is what could have possibly made you think I’d have been anything other than supportive? Just…just _why_ didn’t you tell me? I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to think of a reason. Did you think I can’t keep a secret? Are you ashamed? Did you think I’d look down on you or something? Surely you know that’s mental? Or do you maybe look down on me? And that’s a fucking _horrible_ thought, Harry.”

 His voice was rising, growing less controlled.  “So then I’m left thinking… well, what if you thought I’d be the kind of knothead to force myself on you? And, like… then _last night_ happened and fucking hell, what if I _am_ the kind of knothead to force myself on you?” He lowered his head into his hands and snatched a ragged breath, then spoke to his knees. “I swear to god, Harry, I genuinely thought that everything we did was mutual and if I overstepped or pushed you into anything I am so fucking sorry and--”

 “Eggsy! Eggsy, please!” Harry reached out to grab one of his hands, holding it clasped between both of his. “Stop, please! You have absolutely no reason to apologise. Not for anything. It’s the absolute opposite: I should be begging for _your_ forgiveness. What I did was… unspeakable. And I’m so incredibly sorry I kept this from you.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?” Eggsy was angry now, snatching his hand back, red-rimmed eyes flashing with anger. “Just explain so I can stop going through all the reasons in my head.”

 Harry gaped at him for a moment, all words lost. He stated down at his hands, and then carefully moved his king’s bishop to take Eggsy’s pawn. He kept the piece in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. “I’m… I was afraid, Eggsy. That’s all it comes down to.” He hastily continued, seeing Eggsy open his mouth to protest. “Not afraid of _your_ reaction as such, because I think I always knew you’d be wonderful about it all. But afraid of… everyone else. Afraid of admitting it to myself, almost.”

 He sighed and rubbed at his temples. “I’ve… I’ve been suppressed from the day after I presented. I had it beaten into me - metaphorically and literally - that to let anyone know I wasn’t allo was to renounce my place in the family. That not only would my father disown me, but that he would take steps to ensure I was pushed as far into the dirt as he could manage. Did you ever see anything from Alphega?” Eggsy nodded. “My father took me there. About two years before it shut down. There was an omega on her knees in the middle of the road, being fought over by two alphas, and she was naked and begging them to stop fighting and just fuck her and they were just clawing at each other, punching and scratching and biting to get to her. And all the allos on the bus with me were laughing and shouting at them and taking bets on who would win - and they knew we were there and they just didn’t _care._ ”

 He closed his eyes and shuddered. “I never _ever_ wanted to be out of control of myself like that. So I took the tablets and hid. Hid from it all. And yes, there have been exceptions. There have been times the temptation got too much and I went out and did things I later regretted.And some things I’ve never regretted. But on the whole, I’ve avoided anything long-term, I’ve kept everyone at arm’s length so thoroughly and so successfully that I don’t know how to do anything else.”

 He paused and looked up at Eggsy with his head still bowed. “And then you came along. And I couldn’t keep you away. I _didn’t want_ to keep you away. You make me feel… completely myself. Like I don’t have to pretend anything or hide anything or be different from how I am in any way. I’ve never shared myself with anyone like I have with you. Except... that one thing. That one, tiny, titanic detail. That I just couldn’t find the words for. And… I fucked it up.” He spread his hands. “Completely. _Astronomically_. Every day has been a nightmare of trying to find the right moment and failing to gather the courage when it came. Not because of you, but because saying those words would mean breaking down a wall in myself that I’ve been reinforcing for decades.”

 Eggsy moved his king’s knight on the chess board. “So. Why do it at all? If you want to live your life as beta, why leave that box lying around? And don’t tell me it was an accident, because i know that’s bullshit.”

 Harry picked up a knight and weighed it in his hand before choosing a place for it. “The pressin I’m on is rather outdated. It has unpleasant long-term consequences. And… after taking it for a couple of decades, I’ve reached the point where I face permanent organ damage if I stay on it.”

 Eggsy let out a low whistle, his anger melting into concern. “Fuck. Can’t you switch to a different one?” He made a move on the board, fingers deft.

 Harry shook his head. “Too late. The new drugs are better, but I’ve built up so much damage, the ultimate effect would be the same. So I’m withdrawing. Completely. Well… stabilised. But not suppressed.” He shivered. “It’s… frankly terrifying.” He looked away; moved his knight another step closer to his target.

 “I can imagine…” Eggsy murmured. He took hold of Harry’s hand. “I had a mate withdraw from suppressants back home. It can be tough. So I’m here, y’know? If you need anything. Someone to talk to, someone to get you chicken and cheesy chips at three in the morning because you’re fucking starving and nothing else will do. Someone to tell everyone to fuck off and leave you alone for a bit. Any way I can help, you just shout, yeah?” He gave Harry’s hand a final squeeze and let go to castle his rook and king on the board. Harry frowned at that; it was an unexpected tactic.

 “Thank you, Eggsy.” It didn’t seem nearly enough to express the gratitude filling him. Eggsy shrugged with a smile and glanced down at the board, deflecting awkward emotions like gratitude. Harry steepled his fingers under his chin and considered the pieces.

 “So.” Eggsy took a long gulp of his cooling coffee. “Here we are.”

 “Here we are,” Harry agreed. He hesitated. “Eggsy… For clarity, the only thing I would change about anything that’s happened between us would be that I’d told you about myself sooner. All of… _last night_ was… sublime.” A blush coloured his cheeks and he ducked his head, taking the black queen with his knight. He set her carefully on the side of the board. “I understand if you have regrets, but I--”

 “Regrets?” Eggsy cut in. “Nah, darlin’ - you’re one hell of a shag, y’know? Fucking _hell_ …” A slow wide smile spread across his face. “That was something to be experienced, to say the fucking least.” He moved a bishop across the chessboard. “And like…” he paused, considering his words. “I’ve never felt so… _right_ with anyone like I do with you. I’ve never met anyone who smelled so _good_ \- I mean, jesus, Harry, I literally came just from scenting you. That is mind-blowing to me. I’ve never come close to anything like it - not even with omegas in heat.” He glanced at the board. “Check.”

 “What? Oh fuck,” Harry stared at the pieces. Eggsy had him pincered. .

 “Do you think that maybe you’re having this effect on me because you’re coming off the suppressants? Like your true scent is coming though?”

 “Hmmn?” Harry was distracted, trying to figure out how to save his king. “Possibly. But… I mean... “ He shifted his king out of immediate danger. “I wouldn’t have thought I would be _that_ attractive a partner for you.”

 Eggsy laughed. “Why the fuck not? The age thing? I don’t think it really matters if you’re biochemically matched, right?” He moved a pawn, opening a clear path from his bishop to Harry’s king. “Check.”

 “Shit.” Harry protected his king with a flimsy pawn. “No, it’s just… Eggsy, you told me you had fairly… _limited_ experience of relationships with grammas.” He chewed his lip - somewhere they must have crossed wires; Eggsy could be _this_ casual about it, surely?

 “That’s true,” Eggsy agreed easily, moving his knight. “But what if I’ve just never met the right gramma? Check.”

 Harry looked at him seriously. “And you think _I_ ’ _m_ the right gramma for you?” He nudged his king out of harm’s way again - only just keeping ahead of the attack.

 Eggsy blinked, a little taken aback. “You don’t? I thought…” He blushed deeply. “I thought you were responding pretty strongly to me, too.” He took Harry’s pawn with his knight. “Check.”

 Harry rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. He was starting to get a headache. “I _do_ get that feeling from you. Intensely. It’s just…” He eliminated Eggsy’s threatening knight by taking it with his own. “I have… rather particular tastes.”

“Oh.” Eggsy mumbled quietly. He seemed deflated. He stared at the board and colour rose up from his collar, pinkening his face. He moved his bishop and muttered quietly, “check.” He wasn’t just deflated, he was humiliated. Harry realised what he’d just said.

“Oh god! No, Eggsy, that’s not what I meant!” Harry waved his hands side to side, cancelling his last words. “Shit. No. You are absolutely my type. To an incredibly distracting degree.” He moved his king to one of only two safe squares. “I just didn’t think that _I_ would be _your_ type.”

 Eggsy moved his rook in for the kill and gazed at him in astonishment. “Why the hell would you think that? Harry, I’ve been chasing after you like a lovesick puppy for the last…” he swallowed the end of that sentence. “For ages. Check.”

 “Because... “ Harry dazedly moved his king back to where it had been a moment ago. “Because of _who I am_.”

 “For christ’s sake, Harry, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t care about your fucking dynamic!” Eggsy hissed at him in a barely controlled outburst. He poked a pawn forward. “Check.”

 “Yes but… I thought you meant just generally! As colleagues, as friends!” Harry tried pulling his king diagonally back to keep him safe. “Not in terms of…” he lowered his voice “...a _relationship_.”

 Eggsy put his hands on his knees, leaning forwards. “I’m laying all my cards on the table here, Harry.” He slid his rook forward two squares. "I am very much interested in a relationship with you. Regardless of your dynamic or your weird fucking tastes. Okay?” He sat back and picked up his coffee. “Check mate.”

 Harry stared between Eggsy and the chessboard - completely outplayed on all sides. “I…” he started, slowly, “...would very much like that too.”

 “Oh my god, _finally!_ ” Eggsy punched into the air. “Jesus _Christ_ , Harry, I swear, that was worse than being back in high school. Are you always this difficult to pin down?”

“I honestly have no idea…” Harry shook his head. He felt slightly dazed. He was grinning like a fool. It was wonderful.

 Eggsy leaned back in his chair and stretched out a toe to run down Harry’s shin. “How about we take our relationship somewhere more private, eh?” He winked. Harry’s stomach flipped.

 “Yes. Absolutely.” He drained the last of his coffee.

 “One last thing.” Eggsy interrupted, his voice serious. “I know it sounds like psychowank, but I want you to say it to me. Tell me your dynamic. I think I deserve it.  I already know, so you know it’s safe. Just, like.. take a brick out of your wall and tell me.” He reached for Harry’s hand and squeezed it. “Do the whole twelve-step 'I am-- and I'm a--' crap. Say the words.”

 He was right. He was owed a real admission. Harry took a deep breath. “Eggsy. I am Harry Hart… and I’m alpha.”

 “There you go-- Wait. _What!?”_

* * *

 

 

 

 


	6. Suppressants and Stabilisers: a history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some actual spy stuff! And some very bad decisions.

_ Suppressants and Stabilisers: a history _

_ The journey to today’s modern gramma stabilisers hasn’t been easy. For thousands of years, the only effective control of grammasexuality was brutal castration, beginning before the written record began and later, in the late eighteenth century and the development of better surgical techniques (though before the discovery of anaesthetics) advancing to include crude hysterectomy. While technically effective in rendering the victims sterile and cycle-less, there was no physical reversion to ‘normal’ (allo) as was intended. Nonetheless, millions of gramma people were systematically and forcibly neutered at puberty to render them ‘domesticated’, a practice that unfortunately still continues in some parts of the world today.  _

_ It wasn’t until the early twentieth century that more refined techniques began to surface. Following Bayliss and Starling’s discovery of hormones with secretin in 1902, and the subsequent isolations of cortisone, thyroxine and insulin, the sex hormones were found in the late 20s and early 30s amid much excitement about the ‘cure’ for grammasexulaity that was expected to be found soon after, in the same way that insulin cures diabetes. There was some limited success in preventing heats by injecting large quantities of testosterone into omegas, but the sheer volumes of hormones needed made the treatments financially unfeasible.  _

_ Through the war years of the forties, Nazi and Japanese scientists both made use of their endless supply of subjects to investigate hormonal control of dynamic. It was through these horrific studies that we found that a gramma phenotype can be induced in an allosexual with the prolonged injection of gramma hormones. The process takes up to a year, and the subject will revert to allo if the treatment is stopped. But these researchers didn’t want to make  _ _ more _ _ grammas, they wanted to destroy them all. More work was done through the fifties, isolating the molecules involved and developing blocking agents.  _

_ To the 1960s then, and hot on the heels of the contraceptive Pill came the Suppressant. A heady mix of twelve different receptor antagonists, the first generation suppressants were as subtle as a sledgehammer and simply wiped out the entire sex hormone balance entirely - essentially a chemical castration. Variations were supplied for both alpha and omega patients, who were ‘strongly encouraged’ (sometimes forced) to comply with treatment. Side effects included weight gain, loss of muscle mass, total loss of libido, and with prolonged use, kidney and liver damage, increased risk of certain cancers, and permanent infertility.  _

_ A decade later, and a second wave of suppressants were developed, now tweaked to allow some degree of ‘normal’ (allo) hormonal function. While this was an overall improvement from the early versions, the critical trio of organ damage, cancer and infertility remained, resulting in an unsurprising lack of enthusiasm for treatment. And so it wasn’t until the early 80s and the third generation of suppressants with their more flexible control of hormones and much lower risks, that widespread suppression began.  _

_ With control of their own reproductive lives put into the hands of grammasexuals, whole communities previously isolated from allo society now demanded to be seen, heard and respected. The success of the Pride movement runs hand in hand with the success of effective suppressants and the way they enabled grammas to merge themselves into an allow world like they had never been able to before. Equality in behaviour lent power to the demand for equality in law and gramma rights were finally legally established in the UK in 1988. _

_ However, move a generation or so forward, and the grammas were no longer content with using drugs to match their allo neighbours. If they were truly equal and respected members of society, why should they force themselves to change to fit in? At the same time, there were reports that third generation suppressants were not as risk-free in the long term as previously touted. Pharmaceutical companies talked of their new upcoming fourth-gen suppressants, but the gramma community didn’t engage. They didn’t want to be ‘normalised’, they wanted to be themselves.  _

_ There was a tense stalemate, until a small Swedish research team published details of their new treatment. Not a way to mimic allosexuality, but a way to limit the extremes of the gramma cycles. Not stopping the cycles, but reducing the height of the waves. Not a suppressant, but a stabiliser. The gramma community seized upon the idea and the first stabilisers went on general release in 1998, with massive uptake from patients.  _

_ Finally, grammas had true freedom, both from the ravages of their biology, and from societal pressure to pretend to be allosexual. No longer incapacitated by heats for days on end, omegas returned to the workforce in droves, rapidly rising up the ranks in surprising places such as government or the military. No longer feared as sexual predators, alphas found niches of work in care homes and with children, where their protective natures are used to great effect. With the stabiliser came the impossible: equality that celebrated diversity.  _

* * *

 

“ _ I am Harry Hart and I’m alpha _ .” That sentence was still echoing around Eggsy’s head three hours later, when he was squashed uncomfortably into the limited space under a ridiculously narrow bunk in one of the rooms of the staff deck, while people who may or may not be armed and dangerous sat literally inches away from him, playing cards and talking in a language that sounded like Arabic spoken with a strong Eastern European accent. Eggsy couldn’t understand a word but he knew Merlin was recording every syllable to be picked through by their linguistics people who’d probably be able to tell you what village each bloke had grown up in and where their grandparents had gone to school. Their attention to vocal nuance was so detailed so it didn’t really matter if he listened or not. Which was good, because all he could think about were those seven words. 

“ _ I am Harry Hart and I’m alpha _ .” 

_ Fuck _ Merlin and his shitty timing. Eggsy had barely had time to register what Harry had said when Merlin had burst in on both their glasses feeds, babbling at top speed about their surveillance picking up on some very dodgy-sounding stuff to to with a pharmaceuticals group called Vorn and a drug experiment being carried out right here on the ship with the next dose due to be dispensed that morning. The guys in charge were leaving their meeting place to get lunch and to minimise their own contact with the drug while presumably some goons were doing the actual dirty work somewhere -  _ somewhere _ \- in the bowels of the fucking massive ocean liner. 

Harry had been dispatched to the restaurant to keep an eye on the group and hopefully to place some micro mics on one or more of them, while Eggsy had been sent down to the lower levels of the ship to try to get a better idea of where this experiment might be taking place. Merlin had guided him through the maze of corridors and stairwells until he found himself in the middle of deck three where’d been confronted by a crewmember rudely telling him he was out of bounds. So he’d tranq’ed the guy, dragged him into a linen closet and ‘borrowed’ his uniform and passcard. Perhaps if the staffer’d been more polite about it, Eggsy would have let him be, but manners maketh etcetera and Eggsy didn’t have the time or patience to talk his way out of an argument. 

It had taken an anxious few minutes of holding his watch against a door lock while Merlin had both cracked the lock code for the door, and recoded the passcard to allow him through any door on the ship. He’d got inside a room just as two more staff appeared in the hallway, hoping he’d managed to duck out of sight before they’d clocked him. Thankfully, the tiny single room had been empty - though disgusting, featuring a mound of dirty clothing mingled with takeaway boxes, booze cans and used condoms - and after giving it a moment for the hallway to clear - Eggsy had been back out in the maze, working his way towards the signal from the bug that had started all this shit, and hopefully some answers. 

The bug was in another staff bedroom, this one larger, holding three sets of bunk beds but very few personal effects. He’d conducted a hasty search, and then a more thorough one, when Harry reported via Merlin him that the Vorn group were just beginning their main course. It had been on the fourth time round the room that Merlin had picked up on a gateway transmission from somewhere in the bathroom. And it had been on the sixth time round the bathroom, turning taps on and off, prodding fixtures, feeling along every square inch of wall, floor and ceiling for hidden panels, that they’d figured out the signal was only active if he stood in a certain place with the light off. 

Eggsy had stood there staring at his dim reflection in the dark for what felt like hours while Merlin painstakingly cracked the biometric lock, using his Jedi coding skills to convince the infrared sensor in the mirror that Eggsy’s iris was indeed the droid it was looking for. There was a very anticlimactic ‘shnick’ of a latch opening and then the whole back wall of the tiny shower cubicle had swung open to reveal a dark and narrow passageway leading to a brightly lit room fitted with steel cabinets like an industrial kitchen. Gun cocked and ready - but held out of sight for the time being - Eggsy had crept down the dark hall, ears straining for any sign the room might be occupied, but all he could hear was a rhythmic clattering and a loud hissing noise which could easily cover low talking or footsteps. 

He reached the entrance and paused, Merlin advising caution in his ear. Moving slowly, Eggsy took out his silver Kingsman pen, twisted it and extended it to its full length - about two feet. A triple-click of the top made the ballpoint nib slide away and a microcamera slot into its place. Merlin tapped into its feed and signalled his readiness with a hoarse “go ahead”. Eggsy crouched down and fed the camera forwards into the room, using the top to rotate its view fully across the whole floor. “Whole lot of steel, no feet visible, but view obscured,” Merlin reported. 

Up to waist height then and Eggsy repeated the manoeuvre. “Cluttered worktops, lots of paper, several laptops, lab equipment, oh! Movement at ten o’clock.” At that, Eggsy froze, holding the camera pen still. “Little more rotation west…” Merlin asked, and then “it’s not a person, it’s a… bellows? Pumping equipment. I can’t see any sign of people in there right now. Do a top sweep, just to be sure.” Eggsy nodded, and held the microcamera up high, giving Merlin an aerial view over the room - the most useful, but the most easily spotted if there had been someone in there. “Looks clear,” Merlin confirmed after a moment studying the footage. “Proceed with caution, Eggsy.” A moment to fold up his pen and Eggsy padded carefully into the hidden room, glasses turned up to highest resolution to gather as much information as possible. He didn’t plan to stay in there for long. 

The room was fairly large, about two or three of the little staff cabins, but cluttered with worktops and cupboards. One wall was fully lined with shelving, which was stacked floor to ceiling with small white boxes labelled “Catabexitrel”, which seemed to be some kind of chemical because the only other information on the box was a concentration, which varied from 0.005mg on the left to 50mg on the right. “Grab some”, Merlin ordered, but Eggsy was already on it, reaching for a box at the back of a shelf in the middle of the range. He opened it up to find it packed with plastic vials filled with clear liquid, which reminded him very much of the nebules of Ventolin Daisy had been prescribed when she’d had bronchitis. He pocketed two and rearranged the others in the box to make the gap less obvious, closing it back up and replacing it where he’d found it. 

On to the rest of the room. Every surface was a mess of papers and notebooks and long lengths of plastic tubing, some only half a centimetre across, going up in size to larger than Eggsy’s wrist. He moved his head slowly and steadily, letting Merlin get the footage to analyse later. At the far left was the thing making all the noise: a big mechanical pump pushing air or gases through hundreds or thousands of the plastic tubes which were cable-tied into bundles and led up into the ceiling. Puzzled, Eggsy stepped underneath to look up at it - and swore under his breath. 

“The fucking ventilation, Merlin. They’re putting something into the airducts!”

“I see it, lad…” Merlin acknowledged grimly. He took a breath to say something else but then paused. A moment later: “Eggsy, get out, Harry says they’re coming back.”

He didn’t have to tell Eggsy twice, the hidden room made his skin crawl. That awful almost-alive sounding bellows in the corner, pumping fuck-knows-what into the very air he was breathing. He glanced one more time around the room and headed back for the dark corridor and the tiny cramped bathroom. 

Unfortunately, figuring out how to shut the hidden mechanism turned out to be almost as difficult as getting the damn thing open. Eggsy heaved at the door panel, adrenaline pumping, as Merlin fought to find an electronic release. Harry had reported the group leaving the restaurant some time ago, and was attempting to nonchalantly follow them, though one kept glancing back at him and soon he’d either have to abandon them or escalate to drastic actions to keep himself covered. In the bathroom, Eggsy made the executive decision to just abandon the door to the hidden room and get himself the fuck out of there. He threw the door to the cabin open - and the secret door hissed shut behind him. 

“That was it? You just have to open the bathroom door and it fucking shuts?” Eggsy hissed, almost angry at how simple it had been. 

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Merlin snapped back at him. Eggsy was forming a sharp retort and reaching for the door handle to leave the cabin when it rattled. Someone was trying to unlock it with a key card. 

Action was almost quicker than thought. Eggsy leapt back from the door and rolled under one of the bunks, just as the lock disengaged and three people plodded moodily into the room. Luckily, they didn’t seem to notice him, just sat heavily down on the beds and started to chat in a language he didn’t understand. When one of them reached down and pulled out a pack of playing cards from under the opposite bunk, Eggsy realised he was in for the long haul. He had nothing to do but sit tight and think. He slumped in his hiding spot and stared dully at the underside of the mattress above him, spy-trained mind whirring back through every encounter he’d ever had with Harry, reanalysing in the light of fresh information. 

“ _ I am Harry Hart and I’m alpha… _ ” 

* * *

Harry paced up and down in the stifling closeness of their cabin, fingers tapping frenetically against his palms. Once his marks had finished lunch and dispersed off to various different areas of the ship - barely registering the accidental collision with the bumbling Brit clearly a bit worse for wear after the ship-wide parties last night, during which Harry managed to plant micro-mics on no less than four of them - his role was pretty much over and he had little else to do but slink off out of sight and wait for Eggsy to get back. 

He’d done everything he could think of to keep himself occupied and to stop him from acknowledging the rising tide of panic currently churning his stomach. He’d sat down and typed his formal report of his brief observations of the Vorn group - and absolutely  _ not _ obsessively replayed this morning’s chess match over and over in his mind. He’d typed up his notes from the rest of this shitshow of a mission too, not that anything much of professional significance had happened before today - and hadn’t gone over every interaction he’d had with Eggsy since they’d set foot on board even a tiny bit. He’d had a shower and completely avoided recalling the smooth planes of skin and the firmness of taut muscle and the heat of panting breaths in his ear as they’d fucked last night. And he utterly, unequivocally  _ hadn’t _ had a wank over those memories. 

Harry Hart, super spy - essentially a professional con-artist with an unlimited budget for gadgets and carte blanche to  was absolutely shit at lying to himself. 

He tapped his glasses. “Any news?”

A moment of silence and then the tail end of Merlin’s deep sigh. “Nothing has changed since you asked three minutes ago, Harry. The lad’s fine, we’re just waiting for a good time for him to get out. I will inform you the moment the situation changes.” The words were robotic, bored. He’d said variations of the same thing at least a dozen times over the last couple of hours. Harry ground his teeth in frustration. Nodded curtly. Removed his glasses, switched them onto standby, carefully folded them into their case, set the case neatly on the desk. And sank bonelessly onto the bed. 

The waiting was excruciating. Harry desperately needed to know what to prepare for. If he needed to steel himself for a punch or icy civility or hurt bewilderment. His mind threw hundreds of scenarios of Eggsy’s reaction at him - none of them particularly pleasant - but while he usually found planning for every eventuality to be a reassuring exercise, this time the knot of anxiety in his gut was slowly escalating into cold panic. 

He clenched his fists, turning onto his side. He should have known better. You’d think that by now he’d have learned his lessons. He’d been medicating and hiding for virtually his entire adult life in order to avoid precisely this kind of heartache. Good people didn’t want his kind, and even in the pits of despair, he’d had enough self-worth to avoid the types of people who were interested in people like him. Mostly. Enough to have learned that they weren’t the kind of people he wanted to spend his life with; even if that meant always being alone. Better alone than strangled in some pervert’s basement. Probably. 

He caught a hint of Eggsy’s scent from the pillow he’d slept on last night and his gut clenched again. Harry had felt admiration and attraction and longing and lust. He’d exalted in the throes of pure pheromone-driven frenzied bliss and he’d crawled through the mire of unrequited obsession. But nothing had come close to how Eggsy made him feel. From the moment he’d inexplicably decided to ‘go for a pint’ - as if that was a normal thing to do with a criminalistic youth you’d just used your considerable governmental heft to wangle out of the judicial system - and then shown off by beating up a gang of his peers for virtually no reason at all and  _ hadn’t shot him with the amnesia dart _ … 

The boy made him act like a bloody idiot - had done even when he’d been safely cocooned in a fuzzy cloud of suppressants, numb to half his senses. Now the last traces of the drugs were being metabolised out of his system and the world was acid sharp with its scents and sounds. Voice-tones and body-language cues that’d he’d been able to ignore just a couple of weeks ago were leaping out at him and filling him with rage or joy or sudden waves of indecent horniness. It was like being a teenager again.  _ Worse _ , because he’d been medicated as a teenager and had never actually had to learn to cope with this shit. How did grammas  _ live _ like this? How did they keep sane and functioning in this constant assault of sensory input?

A twitch in his groin almost made him groan in annoyance. He was half hard again. Even now, with Eggsy possibly in mortal danger, just a hint of that gorgeous fresh alpha scent had him stiffening and leaking wetly into his underwear. He shoved at his cock with the heel of his hand, wanting to push it away, detach it and its fucking hormones. But even that brief, rough touch was enough to set his blood pumping southwards. With almost a sob of frustration, Harry unfastened his trousers and rolled onto his back, yanking the pillow over his face and sniffing in a huge breath of Eggsy-flavoured air like it was a drug.

His hands worked furiously. If he was going to give in to the demands of his body, he was going to make it fast. He met slick heat where precome had already spread wetly over the head of his cock. He made a loose circle with fingers and thumb and fucked up into it, rubbing at the sensitive spot on the underside. His other hand wrapped round the base of his shaft in a pulsing grip, mimicking tight omega muscles. The bottom third of his cock started to swell up into a kind of knot. His body still hadn’t fully changed since he’d come off the suppressants - not ‘ _ changed’ _ , he snapped at himself, ‘ _ reverted to normal’ _ \- but even so, he felt bulky and unfamiliar to his own senses. His cock was thickening up, and when he was soft the skin at the base was loose. Now it was stretching taut around the bulb of erectile tissue that was developing there. Already, there was no mistaking it for allo anatomy. Holding alpha-cock in his hands - even his own - brought his mind right back to Eggsy and the incredible feel and smell and taste of him. Harry scented desperately at the pillow, wanking himself off until he shot jets of thick pale come over his own stomach and chest. 

The inevitable crash of guilt and disgust was so hot on the heels of orgasm they were almost one and the same. 

Harry threw the pillow away from him and rolled off the bed onto his knees on the floor, stripping his stained shirt off as if it was contaminated with toxic waste. It stank. Of alpha and sex and shame. What the hell was wrong with him? Eggsy was still hot in the field, in danger on an active mission and here he was having a casual wank. A  _ second _ casual wank, in fact. Eggsy might be in trouble. He might be injured. He might be  _ dead _ . And Harry was just lying about  _ masturbating _ . Nausea rolled through him. He felt dirty and sticky and feverish. He needed to get out of here. Get out of this room that was rapidly losing more and more of its Eggsy aroma and starting to stink of his own perversions.

He crawled to his luggage and rooted through it until he found a plastic carrier bag and stuffed the shirt into it, followed in short order by his sweatpants and underwear. He tied it in a knot and hid it at the bottom of his suitcase. then staggered to the bathroom and threw up. 

* * *

 

Eggsy was miserable. He’d been trapped under this bed for just under five hours now, pressed against the back wall and unable to move because he was lying on something plastic that rustled if he so much as took a deeper than normal breath. The three men were staggeringly dull and did nothing more than play a few hands of cards, eat some snacks and loll around on the beds playing on their phones and farting. He was knackered, hungover, muscles were stiff from holding himself so still, he had a blinding headache and a very unhappy belly and he didn’t dare let himself fall asleep in case he snored. Plus, his bladder had become uncomfortably full at least ninety minutes ago and he’d spent the first part of his day making an utter prat of himself in front of Harry. Some fucking spy he was.

On the heads-up display of his glasses, Merlin asked:  _ how you holding up? _

Eggsy grimaced and used the iris-tracking mechanism - possibly one of the world’s worst text-input methods as it made you look like you were having some kind of eye-spasm - to send back a curt:  _ need 2 piss _ .

_ XD _

It took Eggsy a moment to realise that it wasn’t an acronym. A laughing face. Merlin had sent him a fucking emoji instead of the full SWAT team of rescuers he felt he deserved. If he’d dared to move his hand up to his face he’d have sent back a picture of his middle finger, but instead had to settle the good old colon and opening-bracket. 

_ :( _

Merlin replied:  _ Bugs suggest they’ll be gone in half an hour. Hold steady. _

Eggsy resent his previous reply, with added apostrophe.

_ :’( _

Merlin was merciless, sending only:  _ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _ and then closing the open link, leaving Eggsy to his under-bed prison, his insistent bladder, and his thoughts. 

_ “I am Harry Hart and I’m alpha…”  _ Oh Jesus fucking Christ… Eggsy squeezed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to bite his knuckles in embarrassment. He’d even had the fucking box of suppressants, for fuck’s sake, and yes, he’d never been able to remember whether it was orange for alpha and turquoise for omega or the other way around, because those drugs had never really featured in his life before, but it’s not like it wasn’t written on the bloody packaging. He just hadn’t even looked. 

_ How _ had he got it so epically wrong? Now that he knew, it was obvious that Harry practically screamed alpha from every pore. From his height and strength, to his choice of career, to his impulsivity… Eggsy felt his face burning with a fresh blush. And he’d just straight-up to his face said that he’d assumed Harry was omega because… what? Why hadn’t he figured it out?

The suppressants, yes, they’d messed up Harry’s scent profile, and now he was coming off them he was a cloud of pheromonal confusion and smelled  _ good _ in a way that Eggsy had never experienced in anyone else before. And… well… Eggsy had always been into omegas - hadn’t he? As much as he’d been into anyone else, anyway. Omegas had that hormonal  _ pull _ that felt like love - well, until they came and promptly fell asleep. But he’d certainly had stronger feelings for the omegas he’d slept with than any of the betas. And he’d never fancied an alpha at all. He’d been  _ curious _ , sure; he’d wondered what it’d be like to shag an alpha in the same way he’d wondered what it’d be like to have a threesome, but his fantasies had always featured some generic alpha-figure, rather than any specific person. Was that significant?

Eggsy stared up at the slats of the bed above him. He was undeniably intensely attracted to Harry in a way that only heat-lust had even come close to. It was logical to have assumed that Harry was omega, right? And Harry had quite literally bent over and presented to him, and had smelled of that omega lube… It had been an honest mistake. Some crossed wires. He wasn’t a bigoted twat about it. He  _ wasn’t _ . He had no issue with going out with an alpha. At all. 

He saw himself taking Harry home to meet his mum. Tried to imagine how she’d react. Would she see the handsome, clever, fiery, gentleman that Eggsy knew Harry was, or would she just see a predatory alpha twice his age? Unbidden, Dean’s face loomed over him in his mind’s eye, chortling heartily while his gang of sycophants laughed in the background. “Always knew you were a twisted freak of nature, EggBoy!” Eggsy could hear the taunting already, could see the muttered comments and double-takes from people in the street. “No wonder you got such nice threads these days, ‘e must be paying you a mint.”

Eggsy stifled a sigh and then winced in alarm as he felt his guts clench. There was an ominous rumbling from his belly. He definitely wasn’t feeling well. And was going to be stuck here for at least another… he checked the time on his glasses - twenty minutes. And that’s if Merlin was right about these guys being called away soon. Pushing down panic, he painstakingly typed out another message:  _ Nd to gt out. URGENT. _

Merlin just repeated the plan to him:  _ Wait until 3pm and if no joy we’ll consider action. _

Desperation rolled through Eggsy. _ Gt H to set fire or anythg! _

_ Hold on _ \- was Merlin’s terse reply. Then:  _ H not responding. Stay put. _

Harry wasn’t responding? A fresh seed of worry took root in Eggsy’s forest of anxiety. Why the hell would Harry not respond? Harry  _ always _ had his glasses on. Even on days off, he kept an eye on the network. Why would he suddenly go dark during an active portion of a mission? Was this his fault? Was he somehow so disappointed in or pissed off by Eggsy’s blunder that he was packing it all in: Eggsy, Kingsman, everything?  _ Ridiculous _ , he told himself,  _ he’s probably just asleep _ . He poured the weedkiller of logic onto the thought and turned his mind to planning exactly how he was going to dash out of this room with minimal witnesses and gunfire. Twenty minutes, and he was getting out of here no matter what. 

The man in the bunk he was hiding under farted loudly in his sleep. Great. 

* * *

 

Harry Hart wasn’t just drunk. He was wasted. 

After a thorough shower and fresh clothes, he’d left the cabin in search of some Eggsy-free air and after wandering around aimlessly for a while, had found himself in a bar with a spectacular selection of whiskies and a gorgeous Scottish barmaid who seemed to find his lack of interest in her ample physically attributes more of a challenge than a rejection. There was a tasting notes sheet of the best forty that they had to offer, and after a very pleasant few hours of sprightly conversation over a surprising mutual interest in taxidermy, Harry was alarmed to discover he was nearly halfway through the first page. 

He’d been joined on his whisky adventure by half a dozen or so cheerful alpha and beta men in their early thirties, on the ship for an extended stag party for one them - he was never really sure which. They reeked of old money, which would usually make Harry’s metaphorical hackles rise, but they seemed down to earth enough and he found himself slowly moving from exchanging the occasional comment as the next round went out, to becoming and kind of satellite part of their group. And so, already rather worse for wear, he’d found himself teased and cajoled into joining them to the gramma club: Greek. 

Eggsy had checked out Greek early in the cruise, and had reported a fairly usual nightclub with a bit of an ambiguous gramma lean. But that had been before they’d entered international waters. Now, it was a mass of bare skin, pheromones, pounding music and writhing bodies on the dancefloor, ringed by discreet and shadowy booths. Harry, with his senses heightened and raw, found it simultaneously incredibly arousing and simply overwhelming. He stumbled to a halt just a few feet in, gawping idiotically around him, to the amusement of the clientele. One of the stag lads took pity on the old man and led him to the bar, where he self-medicated with another whisky and tried to ease the pressure of his erection in this trousers. 

It wasn’t a large place, just a bar, a dancefloor and some tables, but it was packed and seemed far louder than it needed to be. The patrons were dressed in anything from formal tuxes and cocktail gowns to outlandish cyber club-wear to fetish-style underwear. Some people were topless: men and women, gramma and allo. The club, like most on the ship, ran virtually 24/7, so there was a constant mix of fresh faces and people who were already nearly partied out. 

A shirtless young man surely barely out of his teens came to the bar next to him, standing up on tiptoes and leaning forward to see the bottles in the fridge. Harry barely noticed him until the salty sweetness of heatslick in the air filtered through his drunken fog. He caught himself sniffing around, trying to find its source. The omega at the bar glanced at him and shifted to face him, flashing him a knowing smile. “You busy tonight, Daddy?” he asked, with a blatant glance down to Harry’s crotch. “Fancy helping me out?” He turned back to the bar, but turned his head to flash a wink at Harry over his shoulder and wiggled his arse. 

The invitation couldn’t have been any clearer unless he’d taken his skintight jeans off and presented himself there and then. And the worst part of it was that at right that moment, Harry would have happily taken him up on the offer. Sexual preferences be damned, his body was designed to respond to omegas in heat and here was one right in front of him, practically being offered on a plate. Harry’s mouth went dry and he stammered ridiculously, trying to find some kind of resolution between his biology and his morals. 

Luckily - or disappointingly, depending on how you looked at it - one of the guys from the bar earlier cut in smoothly with a “need a hand there, babe?” and within moments had schmoozed the heatstruck omega off and away into the crowd. Harry watched them go, unable to stop himself imagining them fucking later tonight. Imagining  _ him _ fucking them later tonight. Either of them. Christ. The last time he’d felt that kind of attraction for an omega had been…  _ Hah, yes _ , the last time he’d been off his meds; at least eight years ago. He shook his head, baffled by his own hormones. In a determined swallow, he drained the last of his drink - now mostly ice water -  and pushed the glass resolutely away from him. 

What the fuck had he got himself into? He was mid-mission, for fuck’s sake, and was stupidly drunk for the second time - though this time without the excuse of there being nothing much happening. Never in his life had Harry been so unprofessional. Okay… maybe once or twice, but certainly not in the last thirty years. Eggsy was…  _ oh fuck _ … Eggsy was still out in the field, possibly in need of help, and he was drunk as a lord in a fucking nightclub, of all places.

Harry tapped at his glasses to activate them, but succeeded only in poking himself in the temple. Just his eyepatch, no glasses. He scrabbled through his pockets for them, but found only his wallet and his neatly-folded whisky tasting sheet and half-sized pencil from earlier.  _ Oh fuckity fuckfuck. _ He’d come out without his glasses. Without his phone, even. What if Merlin had been trying to contact him? What if Eggsy needed him? His blood turned to ice. What the  _ fuck _ was wrong with him?

Staggering, Harry fought his way through the mass of people to get to the exit, panic rising with every slow step. There were limbs everywhere, the music booming through his skull like the the shockwaves of artillery fire. It was no longer a fun place to dance, it was a warzone. He had a crippling flashback to the church in Kentucky, to Iraq, to Sierra Leone. He felt sick. Somehow, he’d made his way to the door. Stumbled out into the sterile relative silence of the cool marble-effect lobby with his hands over his face. He kept walking until he bumped into a pillar, then sank slowly to the ground, heart still pounding in his ears. He was snatching breaths in a way that was somewhere between panting and sobbing. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think.

Years of training and therapy kicked in.  _ Calm yourself. Ground yourself.  _ He forced himself to exhale, slowly and fully. A half breath in. Another full exhale, pushing right to the bottom of his lungs. _ What can you taste? _ Bile, blood, whisky. _ What can you smell? _ Detergent, sweat, more whisky.  _ What can you feel? _ Cold floor, cold pillar, damp shirt. _ What can you hear? _ Distant music, trickling fountain, hum of ship’s engines, footsteps  _ What can you see? _ He finally cracked open his eye and peered around himself. Bright whiteness and a big fancy staircase. The fountain, topped with a cheery golden dolphin endlessly vomiting water. A huge decorative clock informing him that it was ridiculously early for this state of inebriation -  _ not even 9pm, fucking hell _ . A few groups of people walking past, politely ignoring the drunkard on the floor. Okay, okay. He was okay. No danger. No injury. Safe. 

He heaved a sigh, steadied himself. Hauled himself to his feet. A moment spent clutching the pillar while he found his balance and pushed down the nausea.  _ Okay…. Cabins are… that way. _ With small, over-careful steps, Harry set off for home. 

* * *

 

It had all been very anticlimactic, in the end. At ten to three, an alarm had gone off, the three men in the room had grumbled to each other, put their shoes back on and trooped out. Merlin and forced Eggsy to stay hidden another ten minutes, just to be sure, and then he’d been up and out the door and cheerfully on his way smooth as you like. A dash to the nearest set of toilets for his long overdue piss - and the shit his guts had been threatening earlier - and then he was strolling back along the corridors to his own cabin. 

Harry wasn’t there when he got back, and had worryingly left his glasses behind, but the shower had been used recently - there was still warm steam in the air - so he hadn’t been gone long. Despite having spent a large part of his day essentially in Mortal Peril, and despite having watched every moment of it through the glasses feed, Merlin still made Eggsy go through the painstakingly slow process of a full report and debrief, though he did allow him to do so while stuffing his face with room-service chips; he was bloody starving. 

After locking up the vials he’d stolen in a secure section of his suitcase and e-signing the last bit of digital paperwork, Eggsy was finally released from duty and Merlin signed off, muttering something about trying to track Harry down. Eggsy, inexplicably knackered even though he’d essentially spent five hours of his day having a lie-down, flopped onto Harry’s bed and pulled out his phone to check his messages. He was warm and comfortable, and even though it was not even 7pm, he was soon fast asleep. 

* * *

 

Fumbling with his keycard, Harry finally got the door to the cabin open and lurched inside, banging his hand at the wall for the lightswitch and immediately kicking over the waste paper bin and knocking his washbag off the desk with a clatter of spilled mini-bottles. 

A lump in the bed stirred. “Urgh, Harry, keep it down, mate, yeah?”

“Eggsy?” Harry swayed where he stood and blinked owlishly down at him. “Christ, Eggsy, how long have you been back?”

Eggsy flapped a hand weakly at him without turning his head. He was flopped on the bed in his T shirt and a pair of bright turquoise boxer briefs - his trousers kicked down to dangling off one ankle - and one arm draped melodramatically over his eyes. “Dunno. A minute? Weeks?” His brows creased and he groaned. “Merlin says put your glasses on, you massive twat.” He paused a beat and then peered out at Harry from under his arm. “Those are his words, not mine.”

Harry nodded weakly and reached for his glasses case on the desk. “Are you alright?” he asked as he booted them up and put them on. Several hours worth of messages inquiring as to his whereabouts scrolled past his eye. At one point, Merlin had declared him to be a ‘useless wankstain’, which was colourful and quite apt, really. 

“Mmn, hungover as fuck. I wanna sleep for a month.” Eggsy turned over onto his other side and pulled back the duvet. “Hug?”

“Hug?” Harry echoed dumbly, not moving. 

“Yeah?” Eggsy frowned. “Unless you don’t… want… uh,” he faltered to a stop, freezing in place. 

Alarm shot through Harry. “No! I do want! I want very very much!” He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket aside, clumsily sitting on the edge of the bed. “I just thought that you… might not.” He bit his lip. “Considering everything.”

Eggsy blinked. “Weh?” He rubbed at his nose, trying to wake up enough to deal with this. “Harry, were you not listening to me yesterday when I said I wanted to be with you?”

“This morning,” Harry corrected absently, too confused or stunned to think of anything else to say.

“Whatever,” Eggsy flapped a hand crossly. “Whenever it was, you remember that? Because I remember you saying you wanted to be with me too. Or have you changed your mind?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Harry grasped Eggsy’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Definitely not.”

Eggsy flopped back onto his pillow and grinned at him. “There you go then. So get undressed and get into bed so I can sleep, you massive twat.”

Just before Harry took off his glasses for the night, Merlin send him a wall of flashing text:

**HALLELUJAH!!!**

* * *

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the huge delay (nearly a year! christ!). I had a pretty bad time with mental health and pretty much everything in my life stopped for a while. I sought help, found it, and now I'm slowly sorting myself back out. 
> 
> If you're struggling in life, please do reach out and talk to someone. Depression sucks the life out of you, don't let it drain you dry. 
> 
> I am, as ever, anxious and excited for your thoughts and theories. Comments really are a joy to receive. 
> 
> You can also catch me on tumblr, at: still-the-seventh

**Author's Note:**

> This is bloody terrifying to post because I've never done anything remotely like this before. Any feedback, good or bad, very very gratefully received!
> 
> I'm on Tumblr as still-the-seventh - come say hi!


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